


Of Babes and Boredom and Stupid Boys

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jon is difficult, M/M, Sugar Daddy AU, kind of, poor (rich) Theon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 16:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: What I am looking for:You are minimum twenty years, twenty-five max. You’re willing to live rent free in my massive house - of course you have your own separate suite and can come and go as you like. You’re interesting, a challenge for me to take on. And of course you’re astonishingly pretty. Red hair would be lovely but I’m not going to say no to you based on hair colour. You’re not tall, ideally you’re a little smaller than me, you have a nice body and know how to use it. The main requirement: you need to look good at my side, like a perfect accessory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, a lovely anon on tumblr saw it fit to torment me with this delicious prompt...
> 
> Theon is rich and his friends dare him to make a sugar daddy profile for a day to see what happens. Jon is poor, almost homless and desperate and sees this young, hot sugar daddy on the site and thinks why not. 
> 
> Of course it wouldn't leave my head (grrrrr), so instead of working on my pub au I had to dive into this right away. 
> 
> Anon, thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you like what I'm doing with your irresistable prompt, although I've changed a few details to fit with the story plopping into my head!

Theon unsuccessfully tries to suppress a yawn, looking down on the head bobbing between his legs. She’s really working hard for her money, good old Ros. And it’s not her fault he’s in this mood, so Theon pats her hair, giving her a lopsided smirk when she looks up questioningly.

“Anything the matter?” she asks, dutifully keeping her hand on his unenthusiastic cock. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all, pet,” Theon assures her. “I fear I’m just not feeling it today.” Or any time lately. Even his wanks have become boring, a mere habit, seeming endless and unsatisfying. “Tell you what, why don’t you go over there and take care of poor Torrhen? He’ll come before you strain your jaw.”

“Your treat, Greyjoy?” Torrhen calls from the other side of the room. “The Queen is too expensive for me.”

“Whole night’s on me, guys,” Theon drawls lazily. “At least some of us should get a bit of fun out of this.”

“What’s wrong?” Smalljon’s head descends from between the breasts of a dark-haired beauty. “Tired of fucking? _You_?”

“Yeah.” Theon shrugs. “Nothing exciting about it anymore. Same old, same old. Not you, dear,” he says to the girl in Robb’s lap when she glares at him. She giggles and rolls her eyes. Theon shakes his head. “It’s just no fun. You girls are all talented and skilled, but I feel like a hunter aiming at a deer tied to a tree. And before I can shoot it already plays dead.”

The guys snort at that, and Robb coughs.

“What about going out sometime again then? Like, not here but to a club.” He grins. “Hunt in the wild.”

“Clubs are like a safari park,” Theon counters. “You wave a platinum credit card about and they all shriek and beg to be shot.” He sighs. “Besides, I do like paying for it. At least then I know what I’m getting and don’t have to handle overly romantic fantasies.”

“You always say to me you don’t want to pay.” Ros gets up from her place between Torrhen’s thighs, wiping her chin. “Are you lying to me, love?”

“Would never.” Theon welcomes Ros back with a pinch to her breast as she glides onto his lap. “I just want to be so special to you that you _wish_ to do it for free.” He listens to her silvery laugh, wrapping a strand of red hair around his finger. “You sure you don’t want to reconsider? Leave this place and be my own private whore?”

“I’m not the right one for that,” she purrs, placing wet kisses to his neck. “You need something new and shiny, a plaything you can form to your needs. I’d never be just yours.”

Theon sighs, trying to enjoy her administrations. There’s still not much going on below, not even when Ros’ dainty fingers graze a nipple. It’s frustrating, really. That normally is a surefire way to make him hard in seconds. But as much as he tries, he can’t bring up the necessary enthusiasm.

“Maybe that’s what you should do.” Torrhen seems to have recovered enough to eye one of the unoccupied girls with interest. “Find yourself a pretty little thing, keep her around for when you need it, and in exchange you provide a comfortable life.”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Robb asks, voice puzzled. “Isn’t Theon a little too young for that?”

“Besides, I’m not sure if that’d work anyway,” Theon muses. “I’m just sick of girls. No offense,” he grins when Ros smacks his chest.

“Then take a boy,” Cley pipes up, raising his eyebrows when all heads turn to look at him. “What? He hasn’t done a pretty boy in ages. Not since Stark here gave him the boot.”

“What…” Robb immediately starts spluttering, cheeks burning hot red. “Cley, you _know_ we’ve never - how often do I - oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Why do you still deny what we had, Robb?” Theon wails with a wink at Cley. “Are you that ashamed of me? Is it so horrible that we made _love?_ ”

“Not you, too,” Robb pleads. “This joke has got to die, guys!”

“Why? Am I not good enough for the golden boy Robb Stark? Do you think you can find someone better? Just confess that you still dream of my dick at night!”

While Theon watches Robb redden even more — poor man, that one gets to him every time — he half-heartedly thinks about Cley’s proposition. It has indeed been a long time since he’s had a guy. Theon tries to remember, coming up empty-handed. It’s seldom that a guy is pretty enough to catch his fancy, unlike with girls where a warm cunt and a nice pair of tits is all he requires.

“Know what, boys?” he says into Robb’s weak protests. “I think I’ll do it. Anyone know a good website?”

***

“Keep staring like this and I’ll gouge your pretty eyes out.”

Jon averts his gaze, not wanting to provoke Styr. The man is aggressive enough on a good day, and now with the crystal in his blood he’s restless, looking for a fight. Jon really doesn’t want to be his target.

“Don’t listen to him, Jon,” Tormund grunts into his thick beard. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Don’t give him anything,” Orell cuts in before Jon can decline. “He hasn’t worked for his share.” The thin man takes a hit from his small pipe. “Not that he’d do it. Once a crow, always a crow.”

Tormund rolls his bloodshot eyes, going back to his dice. Jon edges closer to him. He’s the one of the guys who isn’t as hostile towards him, no threats, no attempts to get him to ‘work for his share’. Sometimes he even slips Jon some food when he hasn’t been able to acquire anything by himself.

Orell’s right, in a way. There’s still too much of a cop - called crows because of their all-black uniforms - in Jon to be able to steal food, or mug people. Mostly he tries to beg. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Without Tormund he’d have a huge problem.

“Hey guys! Look what the pussycat dragged in!”

Jon gazes up in time to see Ygritte slipping in. She’s another one of his allies, a little rough around the edges but with a kind heart. She shares with him too. Behind her comes a woman - Jon squints. She seems familiar, but altogether way too fancy for this kind of surrounding.

“Val!” Orell drawls, “what in the fucking fuck are you doing here?”

“Visiting you uncouth, sorry figures,” the blonde woman replies with a purr. “Saw Ygritte at the supermarket and just had to come.”

“You look good,” Styr murmurs, clumsily groping at her arse from his position on the floor.

Val laughs, slapping his hand away. “Naught for you there, you greedy, bald cunt. ‘s all for my daddy.”

To Jon’s astonishment Styr just chuckles, patting Val’s thigh.

“Found one then? Becoming you very well it seems.”

“Dish, dish, dish,” Ygritte says, slumping down next to Jon on the mattress. “Anyone want a swig? Val’s treat!”

Everyone hoots as she waves a bottle of Red Label about.

“Enjoy,” Val grins as Orell compliments her into the ratty armchair. “If one of you wants to go shopping with me, I can get you more. Food, too. My daddy’s paying me a nice pocket money.”

“And what do you have to do for that?” Ygritte asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Suck his wrinkly old dick?”

“That,” Val giggles, “and everything else. It’s not bad though, he’s just hitting fifty next year, not that ugly, and he’s clean. Very generous, too. I have my own flat, my own car with chauffeur and a new cell. I have everything now and all that’s expected of me is being a little nice to him.”

Jon shudders at the thought. He cannot imagine it, just spreading your legs in exchange for gifts and meals… It’s only marginally better than sucking men off in the local park, the thing Orell does to pay for his crystal.

“Don’t give me the judging eye, Jon,” Val chimes. “It’s really not bad. There’s loads of benefits and with the right man it can be loads of fun. I could see you doing it too.”

What? Jon ducks under the onslaught of laughter prattling down on him.

“Don’t even try, beautiful.” Styr bellows out a harsh laugh. “This one is too precious to do a little work. Would make loads with that pout, but no chance in hell. Thinks he is too good to suck cock, aren’t you, crow?”

Jon shrugs. “Too good for yours by miles, Thenn. Wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole.”

It’s too far, Jon knows the moment the words are out of his mouth. Styr jumps to his feet, swaying slightly. Tormund gets up too, moving in front of Jon, raising his hands.

“Now, now. Styr, you shouldn’t mock the boy. Aye, he’s prettier than any girl I know but you can’t force him.”

“He has to pay for his share,” Orell hisses, coming to stand beside Styr. “He has to get money one way or another, or he’s no longer welcome here. You cannot protect him all the time, Tormund. Someday you’ll go out, and when you come back… No one can tell what condition you’ll find him in.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Ygritte says into the tense silence. “Jon, Tormund, come on. Val–”

“I’ll come with you. Get some shopping done,” Val says quickly. “It was so nice seeing you guys. I’ll send some stuff back with Tormund.”

They leave the house, Tormund pulling Jon with him.

“Have you lost your mind, boy? You can’t go back there now. The moment you close your eyes they’ll be all over you. And Orell is right. We can’t babysit you day and night.” Tormund sighs. “Either you start paying your share or you can’t go back.”

“Are you suggesting I whore myself out then?” Jon hisses, not caring about the other people on the street. “Suck dirty dicks for a tenner in dirty loos? Or lay on my back for some filthy old pervert like Val?”

“Shut it,” Val shouts suddenly. “I am not a whore, okay? It’s nice to be cared for. He calls me princess, he gives me roses. Look at me! I haven’t looked this good since fucking forever! Don’t sneer at me for wanting that!” She carefully exhales through her nose, calming down. “Don’t you want to be cared for? Here,” she snaps her phone open.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, not looking at the phone but at Val’s face. She still looks hurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think you’re a… a whore. I just…”

“This one for example.” Val shoves her phone at Jon, ignoring his words. “I think this one sounds perfect for you. He doesn’t even mention sex, so you can probably use that to ease yourself into the matter.”

Jon squints at the screen, it’s hard to read without his contacts or glasses.

 **_About me:_ ** _I’m thirty years old, charming, handsome, filthy rich and incredibly bored. Turned off yet? Don’t expect true romance, though I do have a thing for pampering a pretty little toy._

Jon snorts. What a humble guy. Thirty seems a little young for this sort of thing, and Jon wonders what’s wrong with the guy. Surely an allegedly handsome rich bloke can find enough lays without paying for it.

 **_What I am looking for:_ ** _You are minimum twenty years, twenty-five max. You’re willing to live rent free in my massive house - of course you have your own separate suite and can come and go as you like. You’re interesting, a challenge for me to take on. And of course you’re astonishingly pretty. Red hair would be lovely but I’m not going to say no to you based on hair colour. You’re not tall, ideally you’re a little smaller than me, you have a nice body and know how to use it. The main requirement: you need to look good at my side, like a perfect accessory._

A vague picture of a human-shaped handbag appears in Jon’s mind. He’s got absolutely no idea what else could be meant by accessory.

 **_What you can expect from me:_ ** _Free accommodation and board, privacy whenever I don’t require your presence, financial security (as long as you are with me and for minimum a year after, depending how satisfied I am with you) as well as occasional gifts and vacation trips and a generous spending allowance. I’ll provide you with clothes, a private cell phone and any comforts you may need._

For a moment Jon forgets himself and his surroundings, heaving a deep sigh. God, it does sound tempting… no care in the world, everything provided… Including a probably perverted man’s dick, he quickly reminds himself.

 **_Anything else:_ ** _I’m sorry, ladies, but this time I’m looking for a pretty boy. Interested? Don’t bother answering online, no pics. Interviewees are to present themselves on Friday at 2pm at the following address:_

Jon looks up into Val’s expectant face.

“That was an hour ago. Today’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“I say go and try your luck.” Val sniggers. “Bet there weren’t too many, and surely none as pretty as you. I know the address, it’s not far from here.” She gives him a quick up and down glance. “Maybe scrub your face first though.”

The hell he’ll do, Jon thinks defiantly. He’ll go as he is, the rich pervert will take one look at him and throw him out again, and then he can truthfully tell the others he’s at least tried. Get them off his case.

“Do it, Jon,” Ygritte says quietly. “Hell, I’m sorely tempted to get me a fake cock and go meself.”

“Take care,” Tormund grunts, as if everything was suddenly settled already. “You know where to find me should he be an arse.”

Jon looks at their earnest faces, remembers the hate on Orell’s, the menacing look on Styr’s. It seems like he has no choice - it’s either that or be on his own again. And god knows he wouldn’t survive too long. At least not in one piece. He swallows. Better try his luck with one rich man than dozens of desperate ones on the street.

***

The doorbell rings in the middle of another mildly amusing wank. At least this one is fuelled by thoughts of some of the guys that had been here for an interview. Theon sighs, tucking his half-hard dick away. None had been right, of course, but that he’d expected anyway.

“Yes?” he asks as he opens the door - and flinches back. “Drowned fuck! I don’t buy anything at the door, sorry,” he says hastily.

“I’m here for your ad,” is the muffled answer before the door is closed.

Baffled, Theon opens it again. The guy cannot be serious. He’s incredibly filthy. His clothes are thick with dirt, his hair is hanging around his face in greasy, limp strands and he surely hasn’t shaved in months. He looks like a cave troll. And smells like one, Theon notices.

“How the fuck did you even get in here?” he asks, horrified.

“Concierge told me to just go up,” is the grunted answer.

Theon raises an eyebrow. Talks like a cave troll, too. “Tom’s on duty today then? Short, fat guy? Yeah, he hates me.”

The cave troll just shrugs.

“See, man…” Theon sighs, then wishes he could pinch his nose. “We both know that this cannot work, so why don’t you fuck off again?”

“Can I use your loo?” is the mumbled answer.

Ugh. UGH. Theon definitely does not want this in his flat. But the guy is shuffling from one feet to the other, he looks like he really needs to go. Maybe a good deed can’t hurt, karma and so on. Theon can always open all the windows and just leave after the troll is gone. And while he’s at it, why don’t go full mode? Robb will be proud, the old philanthropist.

“Sure,” he says, stepping aside. “Second door to the right. The bathroom is a door further.”

“Can I take a shower?” the guy mutters as he shuffles past Theon, making him pinch his nose in earnest now. “Hadn’t had one in a while.”

“You don’t say,” Theon remarks dryly. “Know what? Go ahead. I’ll put out some fresh clothes for you. Hungry?”

“Why are you being so nice?” the troll asks, brows gathering suspiciously. “If you want to kill me or rape me, I’ll punch your face off.”

“Yeah, definitely not before you had that shower,” Theon says, then raises his arms when the troll flinches. “Woah, that was a joke, dude! I’m just doing a good deed, okay? No need to be that distrusting.”

“Trusting people can kill you very fast.” The troll shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Please go and take a shower before I faint,” Theon says, and for a split second it looks as if the troll smiles.

When the troll has finally locked himself in the bathroom with a hoodie and sweatpants Theon doesn’t wear anymore, Theon stuffs the smelly clothes into a huge garbage bag, setting it in front of the door. The troll can take them when he leaves. Not that Theon wouldn’t wash them, but the flat only has a cleaning lady, no housekeeper, and he has no idea how to work the machine.

When that is done he opens all the windows, spraying a shit ton of air freshener into the hallway for good measure. And then he waits. One hour. Two. The water is still running when he goes to listen at the bathroom door, and Theon knocks.

“Did you drown? Or are you shooting H?”

There’s a bang and an angry shout, then the water stops. Theon leans against the wall. Then he hears… is that a hairdryer? Theon didn’t even know he has one of those. He waits another agonizing twenty minutes before the lock clicks and the door opens and–

Fucking hell.

It’s like one of those crazy makeover shows, only this time it’s happening in Theon’s flat instead of on TV, and he completely forgets how to shut his mouth. The former greasy strands of dull hair have turned into a lush mass of black curls, the shaggy beard is gone and reveals a ridiculously young looking face, round cheeks with a hint of red in them and lips Theon cannot stop staring at.

Damn, he wants to fuck that mouth.

“Sorry I took so long,” the mouth says, sending shivers over Theon’s back as it moves. “Just thought I’d make use of civilization while I’m at it.”

“Sure,” Theon hears himself say, “whatever you want. Er… horny - I mean, hungry?”

A hint of amusement creeps into deep, dark eyes, not hidden behind the hair anymore, and the vision nods. Theon frantically tries to think of what to give him to eat. Cucumber? Banana? A giant sausage, maybe. But since none of those are available Theon settles on simply ordering pizza.

“I thought you’re rich,” the boy says as Theon tells him to sit down at the kitchen table, placing himself and his suddenly raging boner on the opposite side. “No caviar or truffles? Does the pizza at least have gold flakes on it?”

Theon shrugs. He’s still way too occupied with staring to listen to whatever those plush lips say. Hell, he’s never wanted anything so fast, so urgently, in his whole life. It’s a little like running face first into a wall, actually. A sexy wall. With an incredibly fuckable mouth.

“Let’s do this,” he says, leaning forward in his seat, eyes trained unwaveringly on that mouth. “You can stay.”

“What, all of a sudden I can stay? Here?” The boy looks around, then shrugs. “Okay.”

“Not here,” Theon explains, “my house.” He grins. “My bed.”

“Oh, okay,” the boy says politely, _and licks his lips._ Theon nearly falls from his chair, almost missing the rest. “And where will you sleep?”

“Haha,” Theon starts, then, “wait, what?”

He clearly must’ve misheard. He lets his gaze travel from the magnificent pout up to the dark brown eyes, noting a hint of defiance in them now.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” the boy says softly, and Theon’s head explodes.

“You… you do realize that sex is kind of essential in a relationship like this, yeah?” he asks once he’s managed to get his head to stop swimming. “Like, I give you everything you want and you give me…” Head. “...well, sex stuff.”

“I’m not a whore!”

The pout grows more pronounced and Theon grips the edge of the table.

“No, you’re not. If you want to do this you’re a babe.” The eyes darken even further, and Theon feels dizzy. “I mean… what is in it for me?”

“Well… me,” the boy says, crossing his arms. “You wanted someone who looks good on your arm? I’ve been told countless times — by men and women both — that I’m rather pretty.”

Understatement of the year, Theon thinks grumpily. His jeans feel way too tight, despite the strange course the conversation is taking. He really really wants to fuck that mouth. Lick it. Bite it. He wants it on his own mouth, on his nipples, on his dick, hell, he even wants it on his arse!

“You surely cannot expect someone to just come in and start fucking you without them even knowing you? What if you have some nasty STD? Fuck, for all you know _I_ could have one.” The boy shakes his head as Theon watches the curls fly around his face, mesmerized. The boy lifts his chin. “I’m not having sex with you.”

 _Oh_ _yes_ , _you_ _will_ , Theon thinks, suddenly completely clear. He knows himself. He’s charming. He’s good. Before he knows it the boy will be begging for it, Theon will make sure.

“Alright,” he says, watching the boy’s eyes widen in surprise. He clearly hasn’t expected that. “Let’s do this. You make me look good and I’ll take care of everything you need. I’ll send you to a health check and when that is done we’ll set up a contract.” Theon allows himself a seductive smile. “Welcome to the best time of your life…”

“Jon,” the boy says, extending his hand.

“Theon,” Theon replies, taking it and bringing it to his mouth. Jon doesn’t flinch back, although he looks surprised. The bell rings and Theon lets go, getting up. “Let’s get you fed then. Jon.”

He did say he wanted a challenge after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I don't particularly like Sunday afternoons, always feels like I still have some homework to do. Probably because I never did do my homework.
> 
> Anyway, let's distract me from going back to work tomorrow!

“I told you I don’t care what your friends think.” Jon flips a page in the book he’s currently reading, not looking up. “Why would I?”

“Well, you did agree to make me look good as part of the deal,” Theon insists, frustration level growing. “And they want to see who it is that I’m shagging lately.”

“As far as we agreed you’re shagging no one.” Flip. Theon glares down at Jon. He can’t have already read two pages, he’s doing it solely to annoy him. Jon still doesn't look up. “So why should I pretend that you do?”

Frustration level now reaching dwindling heights, Theon bends forward and snatches the book away, accompanied by Jon’s outraged cry. He’s had it, he really has. Just yesterday the guys had ganged up on him again, cornering him.

_“When will we get to see your new toy?”_

_“Don’t bother, man. He’s lying. He doesn’t have a babe.”_

_“Yeah, why don’t you bring him along, eh?”_

_“Because he doesn’t exist!”_

Thus had been the accusations, and Theon has spent the whole morning trying to get Jon to help him out there. Which is torture, like every minute he spends in Jon’s grumpy company. He’s moved in two weeks ago, after a thorough health check, blood screening and drug test, all clean except for a prescription for contacts and some malnourishment.

Not that that’s going to be a problem for long. Jon eats his own body weight in snacks and meals every day. Theon leafs through the book he’s captured, hoping to find some nice illustration so he knows what it is about. No such luck, so he grudgingly turns to the summary on the back, and snorts.

“A cop who’s also a wizard apprentice? Sounds dumb. No, you’re not getting it back,” he says, stepping out of Jon’s reach. “Not until you at least talk to me.”

Jon mumbles something grumpy under his breath, but he does scramble into a sitting position, putting on a very serious pout. Theon sways, clutching onto the thin paperback in his hands. That mouth hasn’t lost any of its attraction, especially since Theon hasn’t come closer to his goal of fucking it at all.

“I’m listening,” Jon states, his back straightening. “But don’t think you’ll get me to–”

“Pics!” Theon cries out in desperation. “That’s all I want, okay? Just some nice, sexy pics of you that I can show them to get them off my back.” Jon’s haughty mien doesn’t change at all, and Theon’s shoulders sag in defeat. “You really think I should get nothing? For all I’m doing for you? It’s not fair.”

That seems to get to Jon somewhat, his posture loosens and he starts worrying his bottom lip. Theon’s blood rushes south, all of it. He feels lightheaded. And it’s true, isn’t it? Jon is living here for free, has his own bedroom, living room, bathroom and kitchenette, he gets all the food he can eat, the clothes he wanted, Theon even orders whatever book catches Jon’s fancy - and yet he’s barely tolerated to even talk to Jon.

“You’re right,” Jon finally says. “I promised to make you look good. So go on. Take your pics.”

“Really?” Theon nearly faints with relief. That’ll make his life so much easier. He takes out his phone. “Okay, look at me.” Jon glares and Theon lets the phone sink with a sigh. “Not like that. You’re my babe, remember? In an ideal world you’d pretend to be into me to get my money although we both know it’s just for show.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but he does arrange his face into a nicer expression. Better, Theon thinks as he snaps the first pic. Suddenly Jon starts grinning, and Theon quickly captures it.

“What’s funny?” he asks.

“Just thought of something,” Jon says, a hint of glee in his voice. “Camera ready?”

Theon nods, quickly aiming his phone at Jon again. Jon slightly tilts his head forward, then looks up at Theon from unter his lashes, _and bites his lip_ , only to let it slide free again, shimmering wet and red. Theon groans, nearly dropping the phone, and Jon harrumphs.

“Thought so. Are we done?”

“Do you think you could take your sweater off?” Theon asks without much hope. Two weeks and he’s got no idea how Jon looks without a thick sweater. Skinny, probably. “They’ll want to see that.”

And to his utter astonishment Jon doesn’t protest, he just rolls his eyes and pulls the sweater over his head, quickly followed by the tee he’s wearing under it. Theon’s mouth goes dry. Yes, he’s skinny. His ribs are showing, his stomach is frighteningly flat - but there’s muscle under the pale skin, lovely tight abs and biteable pecs, and his arms…

Jon leans back on the couch, head resting against a cushion, and Theon snaps pic after pic, as Jon raises one arm behind his head, as Jon strokes his chest and down his stomach and–

“You’re having way too much fun with this for someone who’s that frigid,” Theon mumbles crossly when he’s done. “Please put your clothes back on before I start crying.”

Jon huffs a short laugh but does as he’s told.

“I’m not frigid,” he states. “I just don’t want to have sex with someone who pays me for it. Sex is for people I like at the very least. This is just a photoshoot. We had one at the–”

Theon’s ears prick up at that. Although he’s asked him a million times, Jon still refuses to tell him anything about his past, what he’d done before living on the street, what had happened to get him there. But Jon is biting his lip again, _oh god it’s torturous,_ and doesn’t continue.

“Thanks,” Theon tells him, handing over the hostage book. “I appreciate it.”

With that he turns to go, desperate for the solitude of his own bedroom and the chance to look at the pics in detail, but is held back by Jon’s voice sounding amused again.

“Theon?” he calls, nodding at the phone in Theon’s hand. “You’re going to wank to those, aren’t you?”

Theon actually blushes, not something he does often.

“Yeah,” he says and hightails it out of there before Jon can demand he’ll delete the pics.

***

Jon squirms in his seat. The jeans he has to wear are way too tight, he can’t even breathe properly. And the t-shirt is ridiculous, his arms are nearly bursting the sleeves and it doesn’t stop riding up his stomach so he’s perpetually pulling it down. Jon throws Theon a miffed glare.

“These clothes are horrible. Why can’t I wear my usual stuff?”

Theon glances over, eyes darting to Jon’s stomach and the stripe of bare skin there. His hands tighten a little on the steering wheel.

“Because you’re a babe, and babes don’t go out in sweatpants and formless hoodies.” He sighs. “You do remember our agreement, right?”

“Yes, yes,” Jon mutters. “I’m a babe and I’m totally into you and if anyone asks I’ll tell them what a hunk you are.”

“And?”

“And I won’t scream abuse when you lay your arm around me or fondle my arse.”

“Thank you.” Theon frowns. “Believe me, this hurts me more than you.”

Jon just shakes his head, unable to fight off the amused smile creeping onto his face. It is really funny, how much Theon is into him ever since he’s stepped out of that bathroom. Funny and gratifying. And maybe a little disturbing. But Jon does have the contract that says he’s not obliged to engage in any sexual activity whatsoever.

Jon squirms some more, unable to get into a comfortable position. At least so far Theon hasn’t tried anything. Yes, he leers. Yes, the things he tells his friends he’s doing to Jon - and the things he claims Jon is doing to him - are positively blushworthy. But Theon hasn’t tried to touch him.

“Here we are,” Theon says tensely as he stops the car in front of a tall building. Jon waits for him to get out, studying the bouncers until Theon comes to open his door. “Ready?” he asks.

Jon takes a deep breath. Showtime, he thinks and nods. “Ready.”

They walk past the bouncers, Theon’s hand warm on the small of Jon’s back as he nods at them. At first all Jon notices are flashing lights and blaring music, a huge mass of people and a strong smell of alcohol and sweat. It’s overwhelming, but Theon guides him through it, they step through a door and for a moment it’s wonderfully quiet. A small moment.

“Greyjoy, you dog!”

“Would you look at that, guys, it’s true!”

“Can’t believe you’re dicking _that_!”

“I’m calling leftovers after you’re done with him!”

Jon instinctively nestles into Theon’s side at the shouts and whoops. At least he knows what to expect from him. The five men staring at him are unknown territory. And they’re all taller than him, surprise, surprise. He doesn’t like their looks, as if he were a piece of meat. All except for the one in the back, the only one who hasn’t gotten to his feet.

“Hey guys,” Theon says with a smug smile, “my baby’s a little shy so back off, yeah? Don’t worry, baby,” he addresses Jon, “they bark a lot but I won’t let them bite you. That ugly guy there is Torrhen, that’s Cley, Smalljon, Rodrik… and the quiet bugger over there is Robb.”

“Hi,” Jon says quietly.

He’s sure it’s better for him to play the shy babe at the moment, not wanting to let go of his man - and not all of it is an act. After what had happened… It had made him realize how vulnerable he is, how powerless. At least he’s got his personal guard dog now, by contract.

It isn’t as bad as Jon thought it would be. Mostly he just sits next to Theon, leaning against him, Theon’s arm around his shoulders or a heavy hand on his thigh. The guys more or less behave, only making a few crude remarks about Jon’s mouth and other body parts he doesn’t even want to think of right now.

Theon doesn’t regard Jon much except for some casual touches, he sees that he has enough to drink and peanuts to nibble on, but he doesn’t really talk to him and slowly Jon grows frustrated. If this is how it is for babes when they’re paraded by their men in public he admires their patience. It’s mind-numbingly boring.

At one point Jon excuses himself, receiving a slap on the backside on his way out. Fuming silently he wanders around in search of the loo. On his way back he takes a wrong turn, ending up in another private room when a deep voice in his back makes him jump.

“You seem lost.”

Jon quickly turns around, heart thumping in his chest. It’s the quiet one of Theon’s friends, the one called Robb. He doesn’t look threatening at all but Jon still takes a step back. The quiet ones can be the most dangerous.

“Don’t look so afraid, I’m not going to kidnap you.” Earnest blue eyes look down on Jon and he relaxes slightly. Robb smiles. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You seemed a little… I don’t know… subdued?”

Jon shrugs, not sure what to say to that. Isn’t that how he’s supposed to act? Robb comes closer, too close for Jon’s liking, and when he reaches out Jon flinches, but Robb only touches his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re really scared, aren’t you? Has anyone… is Theon… He’s taking care of you, right? He’s not… you’re not forced into anything you don’t want?”

Robb sounds honestly worried, and for some reason that ticks Jon off. What kind of friend would assume anything different?

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” he declares, shaking Robb’s hand off. “I love it, everything, I would pay _him_ for it if I had any money and if you’ll excuse me now I want to get back to my lover.”

And with that he stalks past Robb. He finds the right room quickly this time, settling down next to Theon who pets the back of Jon’s head, like you would pet a good dog. The door opens and Robb sidles in, looking skeptically in Jon’s direction, and enough’s enough.

With a furious glare at Robb Jon swings a leg over Theon’s, sliding and shifting until he’s sitting in his lap.

“Why hello, baby,” Theon says, “am I not paying you enough attention?” He leans forward to nose at Jon’s hair. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, “is this some kind of trick?”

“Just play along,” Jon whispers back. “I’m giving you what you wanted.”

And with that he takes a deep breath and kisses Theon square on his mouth. For a split second nothing happens, but then Theon catches on, his arms wind around Jon and he opens his mouth, kissing Jon back in a fashion that takes his breath away.

It’s hard not to forget why he’s doing this when long fingers tangle in Jon’s hair, when a wet, skilled tongue slips into Jon’s mouth, when Theon moans into the kiss. Jon grinds his arse down into Theon’s lap, dimly aware of hoots and cheers around them, way too conscious of the hardness beneath him.

It takes a deliberate effort to break away and Jon immediately buries his face in Theon’s neck. “Please get me out of here, please!” he murmurs, dragging his tongue over the warm skin there to emphasize his point.

“Gentlemen,” he hears Theon say into the room, voice slightly shaky, “it’s been a pleasure as always but as you can see I have duties to perform. I’m sure you’ll excuse me.”

When they walk out, Theon’s hand firmly planted on Jon’s arse, Jon looks back at the obtrusive Robb. If that hasn’t convinced him, then Jon doesn’t know what will.

The silence in the car on their way home is heavy, neither of them saying a word. Back at Theon’s Jon doesn’t wait for him, he nearly runs into the house and towards his own little part. He’s almost reached his door when Theon’s voice calls out.

“Jon! Wait!”

He hesitates, turning around to Theon coming up behind him. He’s pale, hands shaking. He looks as if he’s in pain.

“Jon, what was that? I thought–”

“Yes, I know,” Jon interrupts him. “It was a good show, wasn’t it? They’ll never doubt you again.”

“Show? Jon, I don’t…” Theon takes a step closer, chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths, he reaches out, his fingertips stroking Jon’s cheek, leaving a hot sensation in their wake.

“Quite right you don’t. Your friends aren’t here anymore.” Jon slinks backwards until his back hits the door to his rooms. “Good night, lover,” he says, quickly opening and shutting it between him and Theon, shouting through the wood. “And have a nice wank!”

***

“I’ve got something for you.” Theon leans in the door like a bloody applicant, waiting for the high and mighty Jon Snow to grant him an audience. “May I come in?”

At first it seems Jon will say no, but curiosity apparently gets the better of him and with a look at the package in Theon’s hand he steps aside and waves him in. It’s so strange, feeling like a barely tolerated guest in his own house, but Theon pushes the thought away and marches into Jon’s living room. Making Jon feel safe and in control is part of the way into his pants.

“I’ve googled that dumb book you have.” Theon shuffles the package in his hands. “Did you know it’s the first in a series?”

Jon nods, then motions at Theon to sit on the couch before settling down himself, sadly at the outermost distant instead of right in Theon’s lap. How sweet that had been, how nicely Jon had fitted there–

“Yeah, I know,” Jon says, interrupting Theon’s mental image, “but since you said it was dumb…”

“Never listen to my taste in books,” Theon advises him. “I don’t have any. Here you are.”

He watches at Jon tears the package open, as his eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles. Damn, he’s pretty. So pretty Theon feels his irrational cock stirring to life again at the mere sight of Jon smiling. And how that mouth had felt, so soft against his, lips so sweet and full and...

“Thank you,” Jon says earnestly. “The first one was really cool.”

“What’s it about again?” Theon asks, feigning interest to get some more time, even if he’d rather relive that kiss some more in his head.

“You really want to know?” Jon looks suspicious, but at Theon’s nod he launches into a massively detailed explanation. “The main character is Peter. He’s a young police officer and just got assigned to a department he didn’t want when he sees a ghost at a crime scene. And then he gets sent to another department, and his new boss, Nightingale, teaches him magic.”

Jon’s mouth is what is magic, and Theon watches it speaking of river goddesses and puppet theatres and a lot of other immensely complicated shit. He doesn’t even hear half of it, but when Jon stops talking, looking at him in expectation, he quickly tries to remember some of it.

“So this Peter guy is now living with an older dude in a house with a scary housekeeper?”

“Molly, yes,” Jon grins. “She’s kind of essential I think, but I haven’t found out in which way.”

“Well, here’s your chance to find out.” Theon points at the book in Jon’s hand. “What is it that fascinates you so much about it?”

“I don’t know… maybe because I can relate to Peter somewhat, having the same… anyway. I have… had a friend who loved these books, always said he wanted to be a wizard.”

Jon’s eyes darken, he’s said too much for his liking again it seems and Theon knows his time is up. Perfect moment to deliver the blow.

“I have ordered them all. And when you’re done with this let me know, you’ll get the next.” Theon grins. “In exchange for some favours of course.”

“If I’m not touching your dick for money I won’t do it for a book either.”

Jon frowns, starting to chew on his lip in a way that makes Theon want to choke him. Preferably with his cock.

“No dick touching, I promise,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Just a little bit of your time, yeah?”

“We’ll see.”

And with that Jon flips the book open and Theon knows he’s dismissed. This whole situation is getting ridiculous, he thinks as he walks out stiffly, trying not to whimper at the way his jeans chafe against his rock hard cock. There he is, rich as Croesus and giving Jon whatever he wants and yet there’s not even a tiny spark of interest.

For a moment Theon contemplates just going back and taking his dick out and _slapping_ Jon with it. Theon stops in his tracks, a hysterical giggle bubbling up in his chest. Alright, if things have gotten this worse… He definitely needs to blow off some steam.   


If only it would work. Theon drives himself hard into the girl before him, rolling his eyes at her exaggerated screams and moans. She’s going way overboard with faking her pleasure and suddenly he has enough. He pulls out, giving her jiggling backside a slap.

“I’m done,” he says, ignoring her indignant huff. “Send me someone who’s good at giving head, will you? Tell Ros it’s for me.”

The girl scrambles away and Theon leans back against the headboard, stretching out his feet. It takes a while, a good ten minutes before the door opens again. Theon looks up and starts grinning in delight. Ah, that’s his Ros, his Queen. She knows him so well.

“Hi, I’m Satin,” says the boy with a wide, seductive smile. “I’m from–”

“Just suck my dick, okay?” Theon interrupts him. He doesn’t have the patience for the boy’s life story. “Get on with it.”

“As you wish,” the boy says cheerfully and crawls onto the bed.

Yes, Theon thinks as wet heat engulfs him, that’s better. This Satin boy does have a head full of dark curls and the way it looks as they’re swaying back and forth between Theon’s legs, it’s almost as if… he can nearly believe…

“Jon,” he whispers, then louder, “ _Jon!”_  


“Jon,” Theon says impatiently. “Come out now, I don’t have time the whole day.”

“Why, do you have a pressing appointment again?” Jon peers around the corner of his bathroom. “Some more whores to bless with your company?”

“Just get out here,” Theon groans. He shouldn’t have told Berra - his housekeeper - where he was going. And Berra definitely shouldn’t have told Jon. “If you must know I’m to meet my sister for dinner, so please hurry up.”

“You have a sister?”

Jon finally comes out of the bathroom, and Theon clutches the armrests of his chair. Jon looks amazing, the soft black cotton shirt hugging his torso, the upper buttons open and showing off a delicate collarbone. Theon represses the urge to stroke his growing dick, but of course Jon has noticed his dire situation anyway.

“You’re easily excited, huh? Must be uncomfortable to walk around like this, getting all geared up at the slightest hint of skin.”

“High time I got you decent clothes to cover that skin then. And no, I’m not always like that,” Theon growls. “Up until recently rather the opposite.”

“All for me?” Jon raises an eyebrow, his fingers wandering to his collar. “I’m flattered, I really am.”

Theon watches in disbelief as those fingers open a button, then another. The bloody little tease! Knowing all too well how this gets to Theon! Jon clearly enjoys it, all the power he has. It's a strange contrast to his absolute refusal to do anything more… He’s basically stripping right now and it doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest that Theon is seconds away from touching his cock through his jeans.

“I like this fabric…”

The shirt falls open, revealing Jon’s flat stomach and Theon decides he simply does not care anymore. He splays his fingers over the bulge in his crotch, starting to stroke himself as Jon pretends he doesn’t see. The shirt falls to the floor and Jon walks over to the table, picking up the next piece. It’s a grey singlet and Jon pulls it over his head, arms deliciously on display.

“Ah, now that’s comfortable.” Jon lets a hand wander under the hem, rigging it up just enough that Theon can see his bellybutton. “I think I’ll take a dozen of those and five of the shirts.”

“Whatever you want,” Theon gasps, hand diving unashamedly into his pants and gripping his aching cock. “Pants now, go on before I’m done here.”

“Of course,” Jon mutters insolently, choosing a pair from the table. “Hold it for another minute, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

Theon watches him vanish into the bathroom again, unable to stop touching himself. This is already very borderline in terms of their contract, but as long as Jon doesn’t protest he’s going to take what he gets.

“You think they look good?”

Jon marches out, wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs, he turns around and Theon bites down hard on his lip at the sight of Jon’s arse in them. It’s perfect, round and firm and made to be squeezed, he wants to get his fingers on it, peel the fabric right off and just _touch…_

With a gasp Theon comes over his hand, ruining a pair of Hugo Boss briefs and his peace of mind.

“They’re good,” he pants, “really nice.”

Jon turns back to face him, a smug little smile on his pretty face. “I think you owe me two more books,” he declares. “And wipe that drool off your chin, you look like a moron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon really teases poor Theon, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening/morning/whatever it is at yours :)
> 
> We are slowly but surely descending into complete and utter crack XD
> 
> But, y'know, I've thrown in a pinch of fluff for good measure.

“Can we sit inside?” Jon looks around quickly, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Still, one cannot be careful enough. “Why are you laughing?” he asks Val as she follows him inside the cafe.

“Didn’t know I was meeting Tom Cruise for a coffee,” she grins as she settles down onto her seat. “What’s with the sunglasses? And take your hood down, people will think you’re some moron celebrity who doesn’t want to be recognized.”

“That’s the point,” Jon hisses, but he does take the hood down. “I don’t know if they are still looking for me and I sure as fuck won’t risk another run-in with them.”

“They’re still out for you? I thought you’d scared them off?” Val smiles brightly at the waitress, ordering a mimosa and a piece of strawberry cheesecake. “Or do I remember that wrong?”

“Caffe Latte please, and a muffin. And a brownie, thanks.” Jon waits until the waitress is out of earshot before he sighs. “Not entirely correct. Styr and Orell scared off one of them that one time. Well, Styr mostly. Orell was high as a kite and talking to some pigeons.”

“Styr! I thought he hated you!”

“I guess he still thought I was going to suck his dick then,” Jon mumbles. “He didn’t think that for long, mind. Anyway, it would be foolish to believe that that was enough to get them off my back.”

“And how’s the cock you’re sucking now?” Val asks, one honey-coloured brow raised. “Tell me about your daddy, Jon.”

“Don’t say my name!” Jon throws the waitress a suspicious glance as she delivers their orders. “And I don’t - well, he’s okay I guess.”

“Is he handsome?”

“In a weird kind of way? I don’t know, he’s…” Jon sighs, trying to conjure Theon’s face before his eyes. “He’s got a nice smile, arrogant but I like it. Blue eyes, very pale. Nice hair, sand-coloured. Good cheekbones. I like his hands.”

Jon blinks in surprise as he listens to himself. It’s true, Theon’s hands are very nice, long fingers, elegant in a way. They looked good on Jon’s thigh in the club, or when they’d been wrapped around his–

“Oooh, you’re blushing!” Val licks a smudge of cream off her lip and grins. “That good with his hands then, is he? See, I told you it’s not bad. It’s not as if you’re not both profiting from the arrangement.”

Except, Jon thinks with a surge of guilt, that only he is.   


It’s that guilt that makes Jon knock on Theon’s bedroom door when he returns from the cafe. He’s been so nice to him, giving him books and as much food as Jon can eat. His latest gift had been an entire set of dumbbells and weights, and a punchbag.

But that’s not all. Theon has even hired someone to get the boxes Jon still had at Sam’s. There’d been a note in them. _Be careful. Stay safe._ Which probably means Slynt isn’t over it. And as long as he isn’t, Jon isn’t safe.

“I’m in the middle of a very private business,” Theon’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “And if you aren’t here to help me out I suggest you fuck off!”

“Why so aggressive?” Jon asks as he walks in, huffing when Theon hastily clutches a pillow against his crotch. “It’s not as if I don’t know you’re doing that. Hey, is that my shirt?”

“Technically it’s _my_ shirt,” Theon grouses, but at least he has the decency to look embarrassed. “I’ve bought it.”

“I know. I was wearing it this very morning when I tried out your other gifts, you know.” Jon sits down on Theon’s bed, careful not to touch him. “Thanks for those, Charles Atlas. Are you going to make me a man in just seven days?”

“Haha, you’re so funny,” Theon grumbles. “What are you here for? Don’t tell me you longed for my pervert company.”

“I wanted to apologize, but you’re in such a mood I might as well go and train some more.”

“Alright, alright.” Theon snatches Jon’s hand as he wants to get up. “Apologize for what? And can I watch?”

“For how I’ve been to you. It really wasn’t fair of me.” Jon narrows his eyes as Theon perks up. “Still not having sex with you, sorry. But I guess we could go out more often. Make your friends explode with envy. We could be something like partners. Or friends.”

“Bloody well can’t have a friend who gives me a boner just by existing. I generally don’t want to shove my cock into my friends’ mouths.”

“So what, have a boner. I mean, it’s really awkward that someone can be into me that much but there are worse things that could happen to me.” Jon pats Theon’s shin through the blanket. “I won’t hold it against you if you want to jerk off when… you can, I mean, look at me. It’s only fair. Hey, what’s wrong?”

Theon’s eyes have rolled back in his head, he twitches and groans. Jon blinks, flabbergasted.

“Did you just - I only touched your leg!”

“What can I say,” Theon sighs. “You’re here, your lips are moving and I’m a pathetic loser.”

“You so are.”

An endearing loser, somehow.

 

“Beg your pardon, Mr. Snow, but one of Mr. Greyjoy’s friends is at the door.”

Berra is nervously hovering in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. Jon sighs, sitting up and putting his book aside. He’s been so comfortable just now, on the recliner in the winter garden, a huge box of chocolate digestives and a nice pot of tea on the table next to him and completely engrossed in the third Peter Grant book.

“Did you tell him Mr. Greyjoy isn’t here?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir,” Berra frets and Jon rolls his eyes. He’s told her a hundred times just to call him Jon, to no avail. She looks over her shoulder anxiously. “He’s waiting in the sunroom. He says he wants to speak with _you_.”

Fuck, Jon thinks, the hairs on his neck bristling. If this was Pretty Woman, this would be the scene where Stuckey tries to grope Vivian while Edward is out and prancing about in a patch of grass. He doubts Theon is doing that - as far as Jon knows he’s out of town with another friend - which the whoever is here probably knows, and he also knows Theon won’t be here to swoop in and wrestle the guy off of Jon. Smart.

On his way Jon grabs the cricket bat that’s mounted on the wall in the hallway. He sure as fuck will not go down without a fight! Bat securely in one hand Jon slowly opens the door to the sun room, swallowing back a nasty curse when he sees who it is. Of fucking course, he knew it!

“What are you doing with that?” Robb asks, eyeing the bat with a frown. “I'm not sure Theon would want you to play with it. It’s signed by Alastair Cook.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.” Robb takes a step closer, all the while looking at the bat. “What do you think I’m here for? I just wanted to talk to you, make sure you’re okay.”

“And why are you doing that when you know Theon isn’t here? Do you constantly go behind his back?” Jon frowns. “What kind of a friend are you even?”

“His best friend,” Robb answers with a sigh. “Which means I know him better than anyone else.”

“I know him plenty,” Jon lies through his teeth. “And I know he wouldn’t like you being here right now _behind his back._ ”

“He wouldn’t,” Robb agrees. “He’s always been jealous with his toys. And not always as careful with them as he should have been.”

Jon looks at him doubtfully. Nothing Theon has said or done so far has been any indication of the sort.

“I love him like a brother,” Robb continues, “but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his flaws. He can be… thoughtless. I just want to make sure he’s not. For him as much as you.” Robb sighs again. “Look, why don’t I sit over there and you stay near the door, would that make you less scared I’ll jump you any second?” He shakes his head. “What on earth has happened that made you so paranoid?”

There’s something about his voice that seems strangely familiar to Jon, like a déjà vu. He carefully lays the bat aside and nods, waiting for Robb to sit down. The blue eyes are trained on him, honest and friendly and not predatory at all. And suddenly Jon just feels tired, tired of the weight of it, tired of being alone, tired of seeming like a scared little girl for no reason.

Yes, the guys back at the empty house know, not all of it but at least why he’d been there. But they don’t know what has happened in between, before Tormund had found him. And Jon wants to tell someone, get it off his chest. He could tell Theon, sure. And risk being thrown out in a moment. But he could tell this strangely sympathetic Robb.

So he does.  


 

“That,” Robb says after a long pause, “would make me scared of my own shadow too.”

“I’m not scared of my own shadow,” Jon mutters, miffed. He’s sat down too while talking, in the large armchair nearest to the door. “I’m just… careful. Can’t trust anyone.”

“Well, you must trust me somewhat.” Robb smiles at Jon’s snort. “And Theon, if you are letting him near you after what has happened to you. He talks nonstop of your mouth.”

“Well, that’s…” Shit, Jon thinks. “I wouldn’t… oh fuck off!”

“You aren’t actually, right?” Robb’s voice is soft. “Sleeping with him, I mean. He’s just telling us tall tales.”

“Of course I am!” Jon says heatedly. “Can’t get enough of his huge cock, day and night, he’s wonderful in bed, okay?”

“Then tell me what shape the birthmark on his left thigh has.” Robb raises an eyebrow. “If you fuck you would know that.”

“It’s a… a… fuck.” Jon buries his face in his hands. “Don’t tell him you know, please? Don’t tell anyone.”

“It looks like a tiny octopus,” Robb says after a long pause. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“How do you know what it looks like,” Jon grumbles, a surprising sting of jealousy rushing through him. “Did you fuck?”

“Not you, too,” Robb groans, flushing bright red. “I guess I walked into that. We grew up together. I’ve known him since we were kids. Kids bathe together. We haven’t ever…” He clears his throat, then looks at Jon with a strange expression. “You must be quite something, Jon.”

“What do you mean?” Jon doesn’t like this look at all, scrutinizing and shrewd.

“He lets you stay without getting anything in return?” Robb shrugs. “That doesn’t sound like Theon at all.”

“Maybe,” Jon says, noticing he sounds a little smug. “Maybe you don’t know him so well after all.”

***

“I can’t believe,” Theon says not for the first time, “that I’m letting you live here and pay for all your expenses for you to graciously let me rub your feet. I feel like it should be the other way round.”

“You’re doing it well though,” Jon mumbles sleepily. “I’m pants at foot rubs.”

Theon sighs, pressing his thumb into the heel of Jon’s socked foot. He’s not even into feet, and yet here he is with _Jon’s_ feet in his lap, desperately trying to keep his boner under control. Maybe it’s the way Jon looks though, resting against the side of the couch, eyes closed, mouth relaxed and soft, hair fanning out over the cushions.

“You could at least do me a favour in return, I don’t know… do you like popsicles?”

Jon opens one eye to give Theon one of his half-amused looks, mouth quirking up a little. Gods, that mouth is beautiful… And it feels good too, so good on his own when they are out with the guys and Jon pulls one of his shows. Last night they’d been out bowling and for some reason Jon had insisted on distracting Theon by nibbling at his ear in a way that made him lose big-time, much to his friends’ delight.

And then Jon had picked up a ball and destroyed all of them with one eye watering strike. His smug look when the guys had gaped at him is still vivid in Theon’s mind. As is the feeling of Jon coming to straddle his lap to collect his winner’s kiss. Those lips! Firm but soft and warm, moving against his in a way–

“Hey, did you hear me? Wake up, lover!”

Theon hisses, startled, as Jon’s foot twitches in his hands, grazing his aching dick just enough to set it off. Theon curses, Jon, Jon’s mouth, Jon’s foot, this whole stupid idea and most of all himself. It’s really horrifying, being reduced to a horny teenager, as if the first time round hadn’t been embarrassing enough.

“It’s probably a good thing you’re not sleeping with me,” Theon mutters. “I’d shoot before I’m anywhere near your arse.”

Jon sits up a little, tugging his feet under him as he holds out the tissue box for Theon.

“So, are you always on top?” he asks, voice genuinely curious. “Do you often do it with guys?”

“Not that often.” Theon shrugs, carefully wiping into his trousers. “Only when I see a really pretty one. And yeah, always.”

“Pity,” Jon mumbles, cheeks flushing a delicious shade of red. Theon watches him bite his lip, his dick twitching to attention once more. “I wanted you to tell me how it feels like.”

“Or I could show you,” Theon leers, then pauses. “You’ve never…?”

“Never.” Jon shakes his head. “Don’t tell me that surprises you.”

“Are you even into guys?” Theon asks, incredulous. “I mean, have you ever done anything with one?”

“I’m into people I guess.” Jon shrugs. “Doesn’t happen often that I’m attracted to someone. There was a guy at the aca– at the place I was at. And later there was a girl I liked but I never acted on it.”

“You’re a virgin,” Theon says flatly. “You are… oh fuck.” It makes more sense now. He’d really thought… “Like, you did none of it? None of the things… for real? You never had that mouth on a cock before?”

Jon’s eyes darken, he tenses. “I’m tired. Don’t–” He takes a deep breath, getting off the couch in a fluid motion. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Theon stares after him, wondering what the fuck he’s done wrong now.

 

The next morning he knocks on Jon’s door early, eager to see if yesterday’s bad mood has lifted. In case it hasn’t he’s bringing Jon’s favourite treat, fruit dipped in dark chocolate. Not least because there’s nothing like watching Jon perform oral sex on a strawberry to start a day.

“Come in,” Jon’s voice says, sounding a little pressed, and Theon enters. And stops and stares.

Jon is doing sit ups. Jon is doing sit ups without a shirt. Jon is doing sit ups without a shirt in front of Theon’s eyes. He nearly drops the plate as his dick jumps to attention with a gleeful leap, just catching himself in time to sink down in a chair.

It takes only two more sit ups until Jon picks himself up from the floor and marches over to where Theon is sitting, looming over him with a strange look in his eyes before he bends forward, stretching to reach behind Theon. His nose is nearly touching Jon’s skin, he can smell him, clean sweat and something sweet, and for a moment he thinks he’ll suffocate–

Jon straightens, a bottle of water in his hand and after a last speculative glance at Theon he tilts his head and drinks. Theon watches his throat bob, a droplet of sweat running down his neck and catching in the hollow of his throat and Theon quickly grabs the plate he brought, offering it to Jon like a sacrifice - anything to keep from just assaulting his skin.

“I like that,” Jon says with a smirk, popping a chocolate-covered grape into his mouth. “Being taller than you for once.”

“Ha fucking ha.” Theon swallows, tilting his head back to look up at Jon. He contemplates sitting on his hands to stop himself from reaching out. “Be a good boy, go and get yourself a shirt and then you come back and make love to a chocolate banana for me, yeah?”

“Poor Theon.” Jon smiles, and then Theon’s breath catches in his throat as Jon reaches out and brushes a lock from Theon’s forehead, gentle and deliberate. “Poor Theon,” he says again, hand gliding down to Theon’s neck, squeezing softly. “It feels good to have the edge on you.”

And for once in his usually over articulate life, Theon has no idea what to say.

***

“Fuck!”

Jon sits up with a jolt, his heart beating frantically, his sweat-soaked tee clinging to his torso. It’s pitch dark except for the soft glow of the alarm clock. Barely four am. Jon wipes his lips, still feeling the sticky sensation on them, still tasting it in the back of his throat, bitter and cold and violent. He knows he cannot go back to sleep now.

The decision is made before he’s aware of it and he swings his legs out of bed, using his shiny new phone as a flashlight to find his way. The house is quiet, only a clock ticking somewhere, but when he’s climbed the steps Jon can faintly make out a muffled snoring sound. It makes him smile. He’s not alone.

Carefully opening the door Jon tiptoes inside, the snoring now significantly louder. It sounds nearly as bad as Tormund on a good day, filling Jon with a strange nostalgic sensation. Not for the life he’s had with them, but for the comforting presence of Tormund on one side and Ygritte on the other.

“Theon,” he says into a snore break, then again a little louder. “Theon, stop sleeping!”

“Hmmmm…” comes the drowsy voice from the depths of Theon’s bed. “S’it?”

“I’m awake,” Jon explains unnecessarily, grinning to himself when Theon sits up and blearily blinks in the light of Jon’s phone.

“And your first thought was to come here? Do you feel especially torturous tonight?”

“Yes,” Jon says. He can’t very well say he’s had a nightmare and is scared to sleep alone. “Mind if I stay?”

“Do I have to leave?” Theon yawns, rubbing his already sleep-tousled hair. “I remember you saying something like that.”

“No, you moron!” Jon groans, he really doesn't want to spell it out. “That’d defeat the purpose.”

“Of you torturing me?” Theon slumps back like a cut-down tree, but then he sighs wearily. “All right, jump in. But I refuse to take responsibility for boner-induced bruises should I accidentally roll towards you in my sleep.”

“Duly noted.” Jon tries not to feel awkward as he climbs into bed, immediately better with Theon’s warm presence next to him. He shuffles onto his side, turning off the phone and blindly fumbling around until he finds the bedside table. “But should I wake up with your hand inside my pants you will no longer have your little oversensitivity problem.”

“Because you’re going to take care of it?”

Theon sounds wide awake now, and ridiculously far away. Jon edges back until his backside comes up against something firm. This feels good, not being alone. Being safe. He smiles to himself in the darkness.

“No, because I’m going to pull a Lorena Bobbitt on you.”

There’s a long silence following his words, and to his amusement Jon notices Theon has stopped breathing. He reaches back, consolingly patting whichever part of Theon he’s getting a hold of. Theon groans. Oops.

“Don’t worry, lover,” Jon mumbles, eyes starting to droop now that he’s comfortable again. “I firmly believe in your self-restraint.”  


The next time Jon wakes up he feels good, warm and well rested and held and… Oh. Jon cranes his neck and peers down to where Theon’s arm is securely wrapped around his waist, fingers only an inch from the waistband of his pants. Jon snorts, secretly impressed, before he becomes aware of other things. Like the soft blows of Theon’s breath against his neck. Or the pressure of something absolutely ginormous against the curve of his arse.

Jon tries to lie as still as possible but he can’t help it, and before long the whole bed is wobbling with his suppressed laughter. Predictably it wakes Theon, and the resting hand stretches and stretches– Jon holds his breath, waiting for Theon to realize what is going on. He doesn’t have to wait long, the wandering fingers have barely touched him before there’s a hiss and Theon scrambles away as if Jon was a hot iron.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Theon wails, “please don’t cut my dick off, I swear it was an accident!”

Amused again Jon turns around. Theon is half lying, half crouching, staring back at him with wide, terrified eyes. Oh dear god.

“Do you always take your cricket bat to bed with you?” Jon asks innocently, rubbing his backside in demonstration. “That can’t have been a normal boner, I’ll be all blue and green for weeks!”

As anticipated this lightens the mood as quick as can be and Theon starts grinning with mirth.

“Would you like to see my… bat? I bet I could give you a good show.” The grin slides off of Theon’s face as he takes in Jon. “Oh gods, probably not. You’re in my bed. And you shouldn’t look like this upon waking up. And I should really go take a very cold shower now.”

“You do that,” Jon says and gives Theon a little shove that nearly sends him off the bed. “I’ll wait here and then we can talk about cricket some more.”

Theon hesitates a moment, watching Jon as he stretches on his bed before surging around and stomping away, all the while muttering under his breath, not fair, mean little tease, and something about his cock falling off all on its own anyway. Jon shakes his head as the bathroom door crashes into the lock. He nestles back into the pillows, burrowing his face deep in the soft fabric.

It smells good, of shampoo and laundry detergent and Theon’s aftershave, a nice blend. Jon is feeling almost dizzy with it, that and the relief that everything has gone so well, that he’s been right to trust Theon. He’s really a good guy, and Jon wrinkles his nose in distaste when he thinks of Theon’s allegedly best friend and his apprehensions, no matter how kindly meant. Going behind a friend’s back is just not okay.

Theon hasn’t done anything to make Jon think he’ll do stuff against his will. He can trust him. Could, if he wouldn’t depend on him. It really makes all of this even harder, in a way. He can’t ever tell Theon about what happened. First, he may think it’s dangerous having Jon here, what with Slynt still looking for him. Second, if he finds out the truth - the whole truth - well. There’s a good chance he’ll be disgusted and not want Jon anymore and that’s basically his only trump. Make Theon mad with want so he’ll keep him here and safe.

So when Theon returns from his shower he finds his bed very much still occupied by Jon. Sans t-shirt. The dumb look on his face is gratifying, as is the way the towel slung around Theon’s waist starts to tent, and slowly but surely Jon finds he’s really curious how it looks. If it is as big as the outline promises. Or as big as it had felt pressed against his arse… Jon shudders, but it isn’t a bad feeling.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Theon finally says. It comes out weak, and for a moment Jon feels sorry for him.

“I’ve decided I like your bed better than mine,” he declares. “I don’t mind you sleeping here too. I don’t mind…” He swallows, trying to get this right. “I don’t mind if you touch me. But still no sex stuff!” Jon hastes to add.

“So this means I’m allowed to cuddle you when you have a nightmare?” Theon raises a brow and Jon’s heart skips a beat. How the fuck does he know?? “Oh come on.” Theon sighs. “You looked like a frightened boy when you came in. I was half expecting to see you clutching a teddy bear.”

“Seeing as I don’t have one that would have been weird,” Jon mumbles, still thrown by Theon’s remarkable observation skills. “Can I? Or would you rather I leave you alone?”

“Fuck you,” Theon says, feelingly. “Please stay in my bed for the rest of your life.”  


“I want to get a job,” Jon tells the ceiling a couple days later.

He’s lying on his back in Theon’s bed, staring up at a dark smudge that may have been a spider once. Theon hates spiders. It’s comfortable, as always, and they get along really well - except for Jon’s backside which feels _really_ bruised after some more cricket bat situations - and yet he’s restless. Bored out of his mind, more like.

“Yeah, I’d rather you not.”

Jon turns his head to look at Theon who’s lounging beside him, one hand resting on Jon’s arm. He really enjoys the new grey rules on touching.

“And why not?” Jon asks. “I’d love to be able to buy stuff myself and not come running to you everytime.”

“I’ll get you a debit card,” Theon says, rolling onto his back. “Then you don’t have to come running to me at all if you’re so sick of my company.”

Jon sits up, startled at the sudden hostility in Theon’s tone. “It’s not the same,” he insists, “it’s still you buying stuff for me. I want to be able to buy my own stuff again. I miss that, a lot.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Now Theon is openly angry, and Jon scrambles off of the bed, looking down at him in disbelief. Theon snorts. “Don’t go wounded deer on me now. Just get this into your mind, will you? You’re my babe and I’m paying for you. You don’t get a job and you don’t need to get anything not coming from me, yes?”

“No,” Jon says and flips Theon off before marching out.

He’s fuming as he stomps back to his rooms. What the fuck has come over Theon to act like a wannabe tyrant? Jon can do everything he pleases, he doesn’t owe Theon anything, he can walk right out and– Jon stops. He can’t walk out. He can’t even get a job. And he’s just flipped off his only source of income. Fuck. Jon’s stomach tightens uncomfortably. He’s got to apologize. But somehow his feet are rooted to the spot.

“Jon.”

Jon turns around slowly. He has to apologize. Theon is standing an arm's length away, looking as if he’ll implode. He’s really angry, Jon thinks, and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Jon cannot believe his ears.

“I just…” Theon sighs. “I cannot bear the thought of you leaving. You’re mine - I mean, not mine obviously, but - fuck!” He smiles pleadingly. “Don’t get all independent just yet? Please let me take care of you for a while longer.”

Jon stares at him, at his worried eyes - worried, not angry - and suddenly he runs out of reasons why not. With one step he’s reached him and tangles both hands in Theon’s hair, pulling him against his mouth. This kiss is feverish, urgent, not for show but for real, it lightens him up. And scares the fuck out of him.

Jon breaks away, eyes darting over Theon’s face, taking in his incredulous expression, his open mouth, the red in his cheeks. He looks so handsome, Jon wants to kiss him again immediately. So he slaps him. With all his might. Theon gapes at him, apparently too stumped to react. Jon sniffs.

“Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like where I'm going with this! 
> 
> And a special thanks to @half_life - I wish you'd just accept that you're awesome and I'm forever grateful for your help ;*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacations!! Still a fucking long time until I get to go on a proper holiday *sigh*
> 
> Still no background information (sorry) but yay, fluff and a little bit of smut^^

“Poor Greyjoy. Look at him, his balls are probably as blue as Stark’s pretty eyes.”

“Could you leave me out of this? I’m not sure I want my eyes compared to Theon’s bollocks. Besides, how can he have blue balls when he’s got someone like _that_ in his bed?”

“A very quiet someone it seems. My room is next to theirs and I tell you there’s nothing at all coming from there, might as well be two nuns sleeping there.”

“Maybe Greyjoy’s not good enough. If it were me that boy would scream his lungs out every night.”

“Oh aye, we could make him scream. Oi! Greyjoy! Care to lend us your toy for the night? We’ll show him a good time!”

“Guys, that’s not really nice, could you just stop it?”

Robb’s weak protest drowns in a chorus of snorts and more crude jokes. Theon wants to slap them. And himself. What on earth made him think it’d be a good idea to go on vacation with this lot?? He glances over at Jon sprawled out in the deck chair next to him. At least he can’t hear the remarks and speculations on how to make him scream.

Theon sighs a little. Jon looks so good in his black swimming trunks, sunglasses on his nose and ipod plugged into his ears. They’ve been here for three days now and he’s starting to get a tan, a lovely golden glow to his skin that makes Theon want to lick it. Alas, the guys are right. While they do sleep in one bed Theon still hasn’t gotten any further than maddeningly innocent cuddles.

He can still feel that kiss. _And_ the slap. The very much undeserved slap since it had been Jon who’d kissed _him_ \- and that’s a thought Theon can’t get out of his head. Jon has kissed him. Without an audience. All by himself. Had basically thrown himself at Theon, only to drip icicles all over the place whenever Theon had tried to mention it in the last weeks.

Theon looks over as Jon sits up, stretching under the thirsty stares of - well, everyone in the pool area, really.

“I’m going for a swim,” he says, throwing sunglasses and ipod down on his chair. “Do you want something from the pool bar when I come back?”

“This isn’t Magic Life,” Theon replies, rolling his eyes. “They have pool boys for that here.”

Jon snorts inelegantly before jumping into the pool - very elegantly. Theon looks after him wistfully. He doesn’t really regret taking Jon here. It had been pretty clear that he’d been just hours away from a very serious bout of cabin fever. Now Jon seems more relaxed. Theon doesn’t get it, why Jon won’t go out more often. It’s not as if he’s chaining him to the bed - would that he could - or anything like that.

But apart from club outings and a couple of times when Jon had met with that blonde friend of his he hasn’t set a foot outside, not even for a shopping trip. God, Theon would love to take him on a shopping trip. Or to a spa. Or the cinema, or a fancy restaurant, show him off to everyone, not only the baboons he calls his friends.

“Hey, Jon,” calls the baboon named Torrhen now as Jon climbs out of the pool, “you wanna stay with me tonight? I’ll make it worth your while!”

Theon can see Jon stiffen, his face taking on a disdainful look. But he wisely ignores Torrhen’s proposal, sitting down on Theon’s deck chair instead. Theon cringes as Jon leans forward and showers him in gross pool water as he comes down for a kiss. Theon very much prefers the sea to all the nasty chemicals in the pools, but not enough to turn down one of Jon’s show kisses.

There’s a vast difference between those and the kiss from that one night, but any kiss is better than none, so.

“Isn’t it time to go and change for dinner?” Jon asks when he straightens again.

“Dinner’s in two hours,” Theon replies, confused.

“Yeah, but I have to shower,” Jon says loudly, “and I thought we could… you know…”

Oh. Theon grins. It’s really nice of Jon to try and make it look like it should be. Pity it’s not enough. They leave the pool under a flurry of catcalls, Jon firmly plastered to Theon’s side until they’re inside the building. There Jon steps quickly out of Theon’s reach, throwing him a death glare before stalking away.

“Try to get your friend under control, will you?” Jon hisses the moment they’re in their suite. “I don’t know how long I can take that shit before I’ll drown the lot of you in the fucking pool!”

“What have I done?” Theon protests. “It’s not my fault they think you’re not… filled to capacity.”

Jon stares at him, eyes dark brown pits of hellfire. “Oh, it’s _my_ fault, is it! Maybe I should just fuck you in front of them, huh?”

“They want to hear you, okay???” Theon starts to get angry too now, that image is too much. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, lie back and think of England?”

“And how would that make me scream?” Jon is getting louder and louder and Theon feels his fragile patience snap.

“Believe me, _baby_ , you’d scream alright if I was the one fucking you! You’d scream so loud they’d hear you back home! I’d make you whimper and moan and beg for more!”

“Ah?” Jon is nearly screaming now, his face an angry red. “You are so full of yourself, you–”

A bumping noise from the neighbour room silences him and for a moment Jon looks so startled Theon nearly laughs before remembering he’s angry.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful.” He slumps down on the bed, rubbing his face. “Go on, belittle me a bit more. I bet they’re all over there, pressing their fat ears against the wall and already writing down jokes to tell later.”

Jon snorts. “You should think about getting new friends. Maybe buy yourself some.”

“What, like I bought you? Yeah, that’s working so well for me, isn’t it? Hey, do you come with a warranty? Because _I think you’re broken!”_

Jon’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes glitter suspiciously and Theon wants to kick himself. He just wants to apologize, take it back, when Jon starts hollering so of a sudden it nearly gives Theon a heart attack.

“OH YES, DADDY! UUUUH GIVE IT TO ME, YES!”

Theon gapes at him in bewilderment, at Jon’s unmoved face, his arms crossed before his chest.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE SO BIG I CAN’T TAKE IT! AAAAH, YES DADDY, JUST LIKE THAT!!”

“Jon,” Theon tries weakly, but is glared into silence immediately.

“OH GOD YES FUCK ME HARDER, DADDY, I NEED YOUR GIANT COCK TO SPLIT ME OPEN, OOOOH!!!”

Jon moans ridiculously loud and Theon feels goosebumps crawl over his skin. This really shouldn’t turn him on, he’s not even into the daddy thing, but hearing Jon say it…

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, YEEES, AAAAAH, YOU’RE SO GOOD I’M… AAAH I’M COMING, DADDY OH GOD OH GOD YES!”

Jon throws his head back and fucking _howls_ , and Theon thinks his cock might explode, he grips it through his swim shorts, desperate to keep it under control. And Jon’s not done yet, his face stony and cool.

“OH OH OH PLEASE FILL ME WITH YOUR JIZZ, BLOW YOUR LOAD IN MY ARSE, I NEED IT, OH MY GOD YEEEEAAAAH!!!”

Theon groans, feeling his cock twitch under his palm, coating the inside of his shorts with hot, sticky come. He slumps back, panting. A fizzing sound makes him look up. Jon has grabbed a coke from the mini bar, gulping it down thirstily before wiping his mouth. Theon’s dick twitches. Jon raises an eyebrow, mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Was that better? Was that what you wanted?” Not really, Theon thinks but he nods. Jon scoffs. “I suggest you go and take a shower. We don’t want to miss dinner and an opportunity for me to simper and giggle and you to feed me bites like a good little babe, right?”

“Jon,” Theon tries again but Jon waves him off.

“Just… fuck off to the bathroom, okay? I need a minute to myself.”

***

“We should get going.”

Jon glances at Theon hovering in the door between bedroom and living room. He’s spent the last hour alone in the bedroom, not bothering Jon out here on the couch which Jon is grateful for. He needs some time alone.

“I’m not hungry,” he says. “Tell them you fucked me comatose or something.”

Theon sighs, but wisely doesn’t protest or try to persuade him. He does come closer though and Jon stiffens, wrapping his arms around his knees, not looking up. Theon’s hand touches his head, a gentle stroke that makes Jon even madder, but it’s over before he can snap and the door falls into the lock with a soft click. Finally he’s alone again.

He’s so mad… at Theon, at the others, at himself for letting it get to him so much. He just shouldn’t listen when they make their jokes, when they say what they want to do to him. It shouldn’t make him feel so vulnerable. Theon wouldn’t let them touch him. He shouldn’t be so afraid. He shouldn’t feel as if it were true what Theon said, before Jon’s little performance.

Warranty. Jon scoffs. Maybe now’s the point where Theon just doesn’t care anymore if he wants Jon or not, maybe after these holidays he’ll throw him out. Back on the streets, back to begging for food, back to hiding from Slynt and his men, back to not sleeping in fear what he’ll wake up to. Or back to the house, back to Tormund. Suck Styr’s cock for protection.

The thought is enough to chase away any residue of how he’d felt before, just for a moment when Theon had been so turned on by Jon’s words. A twitch of interest, long enough to break through the anger, long enough to startle Jon. He’s not as off of it as he thought.

“I’m not broken,” Jon tells the silent room.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jon surges around so fast his head spins, staring in shock at Theon. When did he come back in? Has Jon spent so much time lost in his thoughts that dinner is over already?

“I didn’t want to stay down there without you,” Theon explains. “I thought we could order something from the room service menu and maybe watch a movie. But if you want to be alone…”

Jon shrugs. He lied before, of course he’s hungry. And he’d never have thought of the possibility of eating up here. It’s really nice of Theon to come back to feed him, and maybe being alone isn’t the answer. But he has to make sure.

“If I were,” he asks, “would you get rid of me? No warranty, no exchanges. Just me, as I am. And if I were… not functioning as I should. Would you throw me out?”

Theon doesn’t answer immediately, he shuffles around the desk until he comes up with a thick leather-bound folder. With it in hand he sits down next to Jon on the couch, taking a deep breath before looking at him. Jon braces himself. Now he’ll tell him that their arrangement is over after this.

“No warranty. No exchanges. I don’t know what you mean when you say you’re not functioning, but I made a promise, didn’t I?” Theon smirks in this arrogant, handsome way Jon loathes so much. Likes too much. “Stop fretting, Jon. As long as you can bear me and my wanton ways… we’re stuck with each other.”

When Jon doesn’t answer Theon winks. “You’re still the prettiest man alive, I’d be an idiot if I let the best wanking material I ever had walk away.” He thrusts the folder at Jon, eyebrows raised. “Now order something, your stomach growls so loud I’m getting scared you’ll eat me.”

Jon can’t help himself. There’s something so sincere about the way Theon talks of his want, it’s not unsettling in the slightest, it’s sweet and honest and funny. And so Jon laughs, taking the folder and stretching out until his feet are in Theon’s lap.

“Do the thing I like so much, lover,” he says and starts leafing through the menu.

 

“You really could do me this tiny favour. I’m not asking you to jump on my dick!!” Theon throws his arms up in a melodramatic gesture that has Jon roll his eyes. “It’s just a hickey, for fuck’s sake! It’ll shut them up.”

“That’s what hoovers are for,” Jon informs him, internally giggling at the mental image. “I’m sure the cleaning lady will lend you hers if you ask nicely. Use your alleged charm, man!”

Theon mumbles something decidedly rude under his breath before training his pleading gaze back on Jon. They’re both lying on their backs side by side without touching, but facing each other. Damn, Theon looks desperate, and if it weren’t for the circumstances Jon would just say fuck it and do him the favour. But he can’t, and he hates the fact that even this form of sucking is sending shudders over his spine. He just can’t.

“Sorry, but no. We have a contract, and this definitely falls under sexual activity.” Jon bends over the edge of the bed to rummage in his suitcase until he’s found the paper. “There, it states I don’t have to–”

“I know what it says!” Theon cries. “And if you don’t stop waving it in my face I’m going to eat the fucking thing, okay?”

The thought of Theon munching down a whole A4 sheet is tempting, but Jon decides to be nice and put it away again.

“Look, why don’t we do something else? I could badly scratch up your back maybe? Make it look as if you’ve fucked a tiger.”

“No, thanks.” Theon shudders. “I’m not into pain at all these days.”

“Or…” The idea comes out of nowhere, ridiculous and somehow enticing. “You could buy me a nice neckband of sorts. That’d show them, wouldn’t it?”

“You mean…” Theon swallows. “Like a collar? You’d wear a fucking _collar??_ Like a _pet??_ ”

“Why not?” Jon shrugs. “They all think I’m a slut as it is. _Your_ slut. You’re basically my owner in their eyes. Maybe they’ll lay off the jokes and offers if they have a reminder in front of them all the time.”

“I don’t have anything here that could be… oh god, this is too much.”

Theon swallows again and again and when Jon looks down the covers are spectacularly tented. And that’s not even twenty minutes after their usual morning ritual: Jon waking up with Theon plastered to his back, boner pressing tightly into his arse, and Jon pretending to still be asleep as Theon rubs one out while letting his hand glide over Jon’s back and under his tee. Jon doesn’t mind that at all. It feels nice, it’s not so bad if he’s not the one who has to do anything.

Oh!! Jon props himself up, eager to share his new idea. “Why don’t you do it to me? I could live with that.”

It takes an entire minute before the penny drops and Theon turns onto his side with a jolt, staring at Jon as if he’d grown horns or something.

“You mean..?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. Mark me. Claim me as yours.”

The last part is dripping with sarcasm but Jon means it. He slumps back down and tilts his head to the side, away from Theon to give him better access. Theon’s hand slowly creeps up Jon’s side and over his neck, brushing away a tangled knot of hair. Jon shivers.

“I have permission to give you a hickey?” Theon sounds so unsure, voice trembling. It’s sweet. “I am really allowed to… to…”

“Yes,” Jon states loud and clear, smiling to himself. “I give you permission and won’t consider it a violation of the contract.”

“Fuck me,” Theon whispers, and then he’s over him.

His mouth is hot and wet as it latches onto the skin on Jon’s neck, sucking and licking and biting. It feels peculiar at first, and Jon lies as still as possible. It shouldn’t take long, he always bruises easily. Theon’s hand snakes its way onto Jon’s belly, one leg is folding over Jon’s, the familiar pressure of Theon’s cock against his side, the sucking grows harder, nearly painful and suddenly there’s a rush of heat spearing through Jon’s body.

It increases, hotter and hotter until he can’t lie still anymore, he writhes, bites his lip to stifle the moan bubbling up in his throat, craning his neck as Theon places a gentle kiss on the throbbing spot.

“Another,” Jon rasps and Theon complies. He’s moving his hips, back and forth against Jon’s side, going faster, his mouth working on a new spot, hot and strong and _good,_ until suddenly he stiffens and lets go, burying his face in Jon’s neck with a broken groan.

“Get off me,” Jon whispers in shock, then louder. “Off! _Off!!!”_

Jon jumps out of bed, fleeing into the bathroom where he leans against the cool tiles, trying to catch his breath. He shudders, slowly bringing his hand down to his aching erection, palming it through the fabric of his pants. It’s been so long… It feels like a miracle, like something from a different life and Jon nearly sobs as he wraps his fingers around his throbbing dick.

“Jon, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

The bathroom door flies open and they stare at each other, Theon’s gaze shocked as it takes in Jon’s hand on his dick. Jon closes his eyes, shame flooding him but he can’t stop, not now when he finally has it back.

“Jon.”

He opens his eyes to find Theon close, and Jon cannot believe it when slowly Theon drops to his knees.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, then, “please, Jon. Let me take care of this for you.”

He should say no. He should say no and run, he should tell him that this is against everything they’ve agreed upon, but instead Jon nods, frantic, anything to keep this feeling, anything to get off for the first time in over a year. He keeps his eyes wide open as Theon leans forward and takes him in. It should disgust him, it should remind him of what happened.

It’s so different. Theon’s mouth is warm and gentle, he’s on his knees for Jon, not wanting him to do this but doing it to him _, for him_. It feels so good to look down on him like this, to be the one in control, taller and stronger. He could throw him off any moment, could punch him, shove him away. Jon doesn’t. Instead he threads his fingers into Theon’s hair and comes for the first time since his life had shattered into pieces.

It takes a few moments until Jon’s breath has evened, until he realizes what has happened. Theon is still on his knees, looking up at him with an indefinable expression. Jon takes a step back, pulling his pants back on.

And _then_ he runs away.  


He barely stops to throw on a bathrobe before booking it out of the suite’s main door, too dizzy to see where he’s going until he slams head on into a wall of something warm, something firm. Something with arms that grab Jon’s shoulders, something with a gentle voice, talking to him like to a spooked horse.

“Hey, hey Jon, what is it? Are you okay?”

It’s that strangely kind Robb, and for a moment Jon tries to break loose, panic making his heart beat so fast it feels near exploding. But the heavy hands don’t give way and Jon stops the struggle, taking one deep breath after the other as he sinks against the broad chest.

“Sorry… sorry…” he pants, desperately trying to steady himself. “I’m… just a moment…”

“Did Theon do something to you?”

And just like that the panic is gone and Jon is angry again, ducking out of the restraining arms.

“NO, you idiot! Would you stop always assuming the worst of your so-called best friend? He’s been nothing but kind to me and you… you…” Jon thumps his fist against Robb’s chest, forgetting for a moment that he’s bigger and stronger and weird. “Just butt! Out!”

“You just looked as if an entire army was chasing you! That and your neck looks as if you’ve been attacked by a grizzly bear. Of course I’m worried something’s happened.” Robb grimaces. “You don’t know–”

“No, _you_ don’t know! It’s _my_ fault, I’m the one who’s glitching all the fucking time!”

“That sounds as if you’re some kind of android,” Robb remarks dryly then sighs. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. And then you can tell me what the fuck you mean with glitching.”

~

“I haven’t been able to… you know.” Jon groans at Robb’s puzzled gaze. “Get it up? Have an erection? Feel like sex at all? Not since what happened.” He takes a sip from his ouzo, cringing at the taste of it. On an empty stomach this stuff is just vile. “There’s been that girl at the house I was staying at… She was amazing. Hot. She wanted me and I wanted her but I just couldn’t–”

“That’s harsh, man,” Robb says. “So you weren’t feeling it and..?”

“And now I am. It’s back. I’ve grown so hard when he touched me like that, it was as if I was filled with lava all of a sudden and I just couldn’t stop. I let him do… with his mouth… I had an orgasm.” Jon blinks miserably. “It was good.”

“I fear I don’t actually get it.” Robb smiles apologetically. “So you didn’t ever do anything with Theon because you’re traumatized from what happened and couldn’t enjoy sex - and now you can. Sorry, but… isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s against the contract,” Jon mutters, then sighs frustratedly at Robb’s confused look. “I made him sign a contract, alright? That I’m not obliged to engage in any sexual activity whatsoever.”

“Nice,” Robb grins, quickly sporting a serious expression again when Jon glowers at him. “But you want to engage in sexual activity now… so can’t you just destroy the contract? You want Theon, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Jon huffs. “He’s sweet and handsome and kind and his dick feels fucking huge when he snuggles up to me.”

“It is,” Robb says earnestly, then promptly blushes. “I mean, I have _seen_ it on numerous occasions, not that I’ve ever - I’m making it worse, am I not? No wonder people think we had a thing when I can never shut my trap.”

“You’re asking for it, yeah.” Jon smiles weakly. “It isn’t so easy though. If I let him fuck me now - as long as he’s still paying for everything - doesn’t that make me a whore? I don’t want to be a whore.” He’s never been like that, even before. That stuff is for people he feels something for.

“You like Theon,” Robb states, raising a hand when Jon opens his mouth. “Wait, let me finish. You like him and believe me he likes you too, so… I don’t know. Can’t you just forget about the whole money thing and just enjoy it?”

“I don’t know,” Jon sighs. “I guess I could give it a try. As long as he doesn’t demand the thing.” He smiles, getting up. “Thank you, for listening. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Anytime.”

Robb gets up too, opening his arms, and this time Jon steps into them without hesitation. It’s nice to have a friend, he’s so grateful to Robb for making this so easy and comfortable, and when Robb hugs him tight Jon kisses his cheek. Or rather, he means to kiss his cheek. Unfortunately Robb turns his head.

***

It’s been a good half hour since Jon fled the crime scene, leaving Theon kneeling on a bath rug with his mouth full of come and his head threatening to explode. What the actual fuck happened? Theon goes over it in his head. Okay, at first Jon declares he won’t do anything connected to sex. Then he goes and teases Theon at every opportunity. Then he’s suddenly into cuddles and doesn’t mind Theon wanking to him. And now this…

Jon had been turned on - the first time he’s shown any sign of arousal at all since Theon met him. He’d been wondering about that. Wondering if it was because of Jon’s inexperience. Thought maybe he wasn’t into sex at all. He’d even considered that it was _him._ That maybe he just wasn’t Jon’s type, not handsome enough, too bug-eyed, too _Theon_. But when Theon had sucked bruises into his neck - Jon had been turned on.

Theon sighs, looking at his watch. Forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes since he’d seen Jon’s dick for the first time, since he tasted it. It’s not something he normally does when with another man. Theon usually is the one getting sucked off, but something about Jon, the haunted look in his eyes as he’d gripped his dick, as if he was scared it’d fly away…

Well, he should make sure _Jon_ hasn’t flown away in his incomprehensibly panicked state. Better go looking for him, calm him down and assure him that Theon’s aware that this doesn’t change things between them, as much as Theon would like that. He shrugs into a shirt, pocketing the key card and starts his search.

He finds him quickly enough, at the only bar already open this early. Theon stops. Jon isn’t alone. Robb is there with him and they seem deep in conversation. Well, Theon thinks, better Robb than any of the others. At least Robb can behave himself. He starts wandering towards them when they suddenly get up. Theon stops again when Robb opens his arms - and pulls Jon into a hug. What the… Angrily he opens his mouth, ready to shout out to them–

They kiss.

 _They fucking kiss_ , and Theon turns on his heel and fucks off as fast as he can. He makes it back into the suite in record time. For a moment Theon is tempted to call reception, tell them to deactivate Jon’s key card. No. He needs to look him in the eye when he asks him why. Seething, Theon starts to throw Jon’s stuff into his suitcase, all of it. He’s being gracious, really. Nothing here is Jon’s, everything has been bought by Theon.

What the fuck. He can keep it, everything. Robb is well off, the fucker, but not as rich as Theon. Would be a pity if he couldn’t give Jon the same standard he’s used to by now. When the suitcase is packed and ready, Theon waits. The time for breakfast has passed but he doesn’t feel hungry. His stomach is a tightly knotted ache. He just wants to be done.

It’s another good hour before the door opens. Theon is sitting on the bed, waiting for Jon to come to him. He does, still in his bathrobe, hair loosely clouding around his face, a timid smile on his pretty mouth. His eyes are soft, he seems relaxed. Probably fucked out, Theon thinks acidly.

“Hey,” Jon says, “you’re here. I was hoping you hadn’t gone down to breakfast.” He takes a step closer, then frowns. “Why is my suitcase packed? Are we going home?”

“Don’t know, you’ll have to ask your new lover,” Theon says icily. “I’m not responsible for you anymore.”

“Theon?”

Jon pretends to be confused, how cute! It makes Theon want to strangle him.

“Take your fucking stuff and piss off. I bet his bed is big enough for you too. But you know that already, don’t you? Spent the last hour there spreading your legs for my best friend. Was he good? Did he fuck you well? I don’t get it, Jon.”

Theon feels his chest tighten, he digs his nails into his palm to stop the fucking tears in their track.

“Is it because he’s not paying for you? Or is it just because of his pretty face? Not good enough, am I?” Theon sneers. “I gave you everything! I didn’t demand anything, and you don’t even have the decency to fucking talk to me before you go and fuck my best friend? Fuck you!”

“I’m not fucking anyone,” Jon says, sounding utterly disturbed. “I mean, I came here now because I thought _we_ could… What on earth do you mean?”

“I saw you,” Theon spits. “I saw you and Robb. Stop playing innocent, Jon. I saw what I saw.”

“Good gods.” Jon actually facepalms. “You saw nothing, you moron!”

“Oh, nothing!” Theon cries out. “Nothing like you two hugging like a pair of lovers and him shoving his tongue in your fucking mouth–”

“Shut it!!”

Jon looks absolutely terrifying all of a sudden and Theon clamps his mouth shut.

“So you saw how he hugged me after he gave me some great advice on how to fucking deal with my feelings _for you_? And you’ve seen how I meant to kiss his _cheek_ and he _accidentally_ turned his head?”

Theon wants to protest but Jon isn’t done.

“And then you must’ve fucking seen how we sprang apart and he started wiping his lips as if I’m fucking venomous because _I remind him of his fucking father????”_

“Well, no,” Theon says, “I didn’t stick around to watch you two making out–”

“MAKING OUT!!!” Jon is practically screeching and if Theon weren’t on the bed he’d take a step back. Jon breathes hard, face red, eyes glittering with bloodlust. “I’ll fucking show you making out!”

And with that he pounces on Theon, knocking him backwards into the mattress. It’s all happening so fast Theon can’t react and then Jon is kissing him. Kissing him like he kissed him that one time, clumsy and urgent, teeth scraping Theon’s lips, Jon’s tongue in his mouth and stars exploding before his eyes.

He tastes so good, sweet, with a sharp hint of anise beneath, wet and warm and Theon just doesn’t want to stop ever again. But stop it does, when suddenly Jon breaks away, letting his head fall into the crook of Theon’s neck. He’s making weird noises, it sounds like he’s laughing but Theon’s skin gets wet with tears.

“I’m the most terrible babe in the history of babes,” Jon laugh-cries. “First I don’t fuck you and then I go and accidentally kiss your best friend. I’d be fucking done with me if I were you."

“Never mind,” Theon murmurs. “Shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Besides, I’m shite at being a sugar daddy too. I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to fall in love with their babes.”

“You…”

Jon sits up, eyes glazed, eyelashes wet. His pretty mouth is red and swollen, his hair a tangled mess of curls. And then he smiles, and Theon’s heart swells in his chest at the sight.

“I want you to do things to me,” Jon says, shyly placing his hand on Theon’s chest. “Please do things to me.”

“But the contract…”

Theon immediately wants to slap himself as Jon’s face darkens, as he scrambles away. He stalks over to his packed suitcase, ripping the zip open so fast it breaks, and unceremoniously dumps the contents on the carpet. With one sure grasp he pulls out a piece of paper and looks Theon dead in the eye.

“What contract,” he says and starts to rip it into pieces.   


Of course they don’t fuck right away. Theon isn’t an animal, and what with Jon’s lack of experience they’re bound to take it slow. So it’s a whole lot of kissing that follows, so much that Theon’s jaw starts to hurt and he can’t feel his tongue anymore. He couldn’t care less. He’s kissing Jon, and what’s more Jon is kissing back with an eagerness that sets Theon’s nerves alight.

He touches him. He’s finally allowed to get his hands on Jon and Theon can’t get enough of it, exploring every inch of soft golden skin with his fingers and his mouth. And Jon moans beneath him, presses back against every touch, needy and beautiful. The bath robe has long been thrown to the floor, accompanied by Theon’s shirt. It’s only pants now, the last layer separating them. They have time.

Theon orders food, barely able to watch Jon eat, unable to get a single bite down his own throat. He drags him back to bed after the last piece of toast, anxious to get back to the slow exploration of Jon’s body, back to sweet kisses and sweet moans. Jon doesn’t do much, he just writhes and gasps and looks devastatingly pretty. But he lets Theon do whatever he pleases, lets him lick his nipples, lets him suck more bruises into his neck, lets him press their bodies together.

They’re both hard. Theon can feel Jon’s erection against his own as he’s draped over him, can feel it pulsing when he moves. But Jon hasn’t made any indication if he wants to go further now, so Theon contends himself with what he has, which is a lot. He can’t help pressing down harder though, rubbing his length against the hardness, and suddenly Jon throws back his head, keening, gasping, a wet sensation spreading between them. Theon stills, his mouth on Jon’s throat.

“I’ve come in my pants,” Jon mumbles, astonishment in his voice.

Theon giggles. “Welcome to my world, darling.” He kisses him again, gentle now, taking his weight off of Jon’s body. “Do you want something to eat? Drink? A nap?”

“I want to touch you,” Jon says. “And don’t you dare stop touching me.”

“Whatever my baby wants,” Theon drawls, then yelps when Jon smacks his chest and shoves him until he’s flat on his back.

Jon grins, delighted with his victory, and then Theon’s breath hitches in his throat when Jon moves to straddle him. His eyes are darker than ever as he looks down, as he slowly starts moving his hips. It shouldn’t feel so good, two layers of fabric between them and one of them soaked with come, but it does. Jon bites his lip as he rocks down against Theon’s straining dick, he takes Theon’s hands and places them on his chest. God, he looks like something out of a dream.

“I like this,” Jon gasps, moving faster, leaning into Theon’s stroking palms. “I like being on top. I like having you beneath me. I like… I like this.”

His hands roam over Theon’s chest, palms rubbing against his nipples and his arse grinding down on Theon’s dick and he looks so beautiful, so sure, and Theon pulls him down as he comes, whispering Jon’s name against his mouth. Jon kisses him before he rolls off, chest heaving.

“How long before we can do this again?” he asks.

“Just go and eat a banana,” Theon says, “and I’m all yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrrrr... not long and Jon's virginity is history, I guess. 
> 
> @half_life!!! You're the absolute best. You shall stand in bronze above the shores of Pyke!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! *yawn*  
> It's too early to be alive...
> 
> Alright, let's get some darkness going. Ready for the terrible past? (Don't despair... there's also smut!)

“Oh god I love this. “Jon tilts his head, seeming to listen intently. “Do you hear that?”

Theon has no idea what he means. The only sounds he can discern are the distant chirps of birds and some crickets causing an infernal ruckus. Apart from that, nothing at all. His lack of understanding must be plain on his face, because Jon snorts.

“The silence, you moron. No one wondering if my arse tastes as delicious as it looks, no one asking me to perform certain tasks on them, no one throwing their stuff on the ground to make me pick it up… That was your best idea yet.”

Jon sighs contentedly, and Theon smiles as he watches him turn onto his belly, pretty face smug. Jon’s right, Theon thinks, it had been one of his more genius moments to book a different hotel for just him and Jon and leave the baboons to their own devices. Now they have a private pool in this much more intimate place - which has the added benefit of Jon wearing nothing but his skin at the moment.

That, and a very decorative array of love bites.

Theon’s sporting some of his own by now. For whatever reason it had taken Jon nearly a week until he’d been comfortable enough to reciprocate Theon’s attentions. It’s strange, in a way. Jon loves to be on top, even for the first time Theon had been in him, despite the difficulties that had caused, what with it being Jon’s first time ever.

“I’m only sorry you had to desert Robb as well,” Jon says out of nowhere, shattering Theon’s pleasant reminiscing. “He’s a decent guy, although I think he doesn’t give you enough credit.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I just mean–” Jon looks up with a guilty expression. “You won’t forget I just said that by any chance? Maybe if I lick your nipples?”

“Oh god, yes,” Theon sighs. That had been amazing, Jon finally doing that, finally using his wonderful mouth on at least _some_ parts of Theon. He could… “Hey, stop it. What’s with Robb?”

“Dammit.” Jon scrambles into a sitting position, drawing Theon’s gaze to his pretty cock, and not for the first time he has to tell himself to focus. Jon frowns unhappily. “You’re not allowed to get mad. Or mention it ever again.”

“Go on,” Theon prompts when nothing more follows. “I promise.”

“Well, he was there that one day when you were out and I threatened him with your cricket bat but he just wanted to make sure I’m okay.” Jon starts worrying his bottom lip in a very distracting way. “And he was concerned that you’d done something to me after I bailed on you the other day. Are you mad now?”

Theon lets all of this astonishing information sink in. Robb, of course. What a fucking Robbish thing to do. So fucking typical, going about and worrying about a complete stranger, enough so that he’d go behind Theon’s back and face Jon and his cricket bat–

“Wait, what bat?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about? Your stupid bat?” Jon rolls his eyes. “It’s not a relic just because it has some guy’s name scribbled on it.”

“I’ll have you know that Alastair Cook was the best - okay, you’re right.” Theon sighs, lying back in his deck chair. He’s really hoped this wouldn’t ever come up between them. “I’m not mad. Robb was probably thinking about Kyra.”

“Kyra?”

Jon looks curious and Theon inhales carefully. This isn’t really a conversation for blue greek skies and bright sunshine. Or one of the participants being stark naked. But seeing as they’ve already started…

“She was a girl I had a thing with when I was about twenty, twenty-one. If you ask her she’d tell you it was a relationship. I would’ve called it fucking with extras.”

“Extras?”

“Spending the night. Going out together. She met my family.”

“She was your girlfriend then, you idiot.”

Jon sounds fond and for a moment Theon contemplates just stopping right there, leaving out the really bad part. There’s a very real chance Jon won’t be fond of him any longer. But if he can’t tell Jon, how are they ever going to trust each other? It’s a risk he has to take.

“I guess she was. Well, I wasn’t the best boyfriend at any rate. Didn’t really think that much of her to be honest. But she was so into me…” Theon swallows, bracing himself. “One night we were both really drunk and things got heated and… I was too rough I think. She told me to stop. I thought it was a game, that she was playing a role. I sneered. Told her to drop the act.”

This is still hard. After nearly a decade… this is still so fucking hard.

“She was sobbing at that point and it suddenly it hit me that she wasn’t playing, that she _really_ wanted me to stop.” Theon smiles thinly. “I’ve never moved as fast as in that moment. Jumped off her as if she were on fire.”

“You stopped.” Jon sounds calm, and Theon shakes his head.

“Not as soon as I should have. But that’s not the worst part.”

Jon gets up and vanishes inside their bungalow, returning a moment later wrapped in his bathrobe and with two mini bottles of white wine. Theon accepts one gratefully, taking a long sip while Jon settles on the tiled ground next to Theon.

“Tell me the worst part,” he prompts.

“I acted like the biggest asshole in the world. Couldn’t look at her anymore. I asked Robb to take her to the airport, to buy her a ticket so she could go and be with her family.”

“That’s… assholish,” Jon mumbles, twisting the cap of his bottle in his fingers. He’s not looking at Theon. “No wonder Robb said… I get it now. What he meant about you not being careful about your…” He swallows. “Toys.”

“I felt so fucking bad…” Theon says. His eyes are stinging. “But I refused to think of it. I just threw myself back into clubbing and fucking and all that. I pushed it away. Told myself it wasn’t so bad because I _had_ stopped when I realized - anyway, later I met someone on a night out.”

Nearly ten years and three different therapists and it’s still like an anvil on his chest, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe.

“I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just say… the thing I learned from him…”

Jon’s head snaps up, his beautiful mouth a tense line.

“...is that it isn’t fun when you’re pleading someone to stop and they just.” Theon exhales shakily. “Don’t.”

The silence hanging between them is oppressing and Theon shivers despite the warmth of the sun.

“What happened?” Jon asks, voice strangely pressed. “Tell me.”

“Oh god, Jon.” Theon wraps his arms around himself. “Is it really necessary to–”

“Yes,” Jon interrupts him. “Yes, it is.”

“Fuck.” Theon grits his teeth. “When I told you I always am the one doing the fucking I lied, okay? I am _since_ _then_. He hurt me, I pleaded with him to stop and he just fucking didn’t. There, that’s it. Happy now?”

“Yes,” Jon says again and when Theon looks at him in bewilderment he makes a weird little sound, like a hiccup. “ _You know how it is_! You know what it’s like and you got over it which means it’s possible and…” He takes a deep breath. “You know.”

“Right now I don’t know anything, but I’m happy that my misfortunes are a source of joy to you,” Theon mutters, then cries out when Jon punches him. “Ouch! What was that for, you little beast?!”

“You moron!” Jon shouts, “I can tell you! You’ll understand!”

“Understand _what?”_

And Jon takes a deep breath and starts talking.

He talks of how happy he was when the police academy accepted him. How he slowly made friends, how the chief commander hated his guts but Jon still respected him. How one day Jon was tasked to get something from the evidence room. How he saw a high ranking officer pocketing packets and packets of confiscated cocaine.

“I made a noise and Slynt noticed me.” Jon’s face is dark. “He pushed me down and locked me in. By the time another colleague came down there he’d already gone to Commander Thorne. And when _I_ finally got there Thorne told me that I hadn’t seen anything and to keep my mouth shut.”

Jon pulls his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

“I should’ve listened, but of course I didn’t. I told my friends. And then they came for me. Thorne and some other guys. A young cadet I supported. Thorne said they had found a stash of cocaine in my lockers and traces of it on my uniform. They came to arrest me.” Jon laughs, a bitter sound. “I fought them until Olly - the young cadet - tasered me. A boy I liked. Trusted.” Jon’s face is an anguished grimace. “Then I was put into custody.”

Theon listens as Jon’s voice gets quiet and low, listens to what exactly it meant being a cop behind bars. And the fellow inmates hadn’t been the worst. There had been some guards–

“I don’t actually remember much of the thing itself,” Jon says. “I must’ve blacked out or left my body or something equally dumb. But I can still taste their - they said it was to remind me to keep my mouth shut. They did it every day, all four of them. They were huge. They were the ones in control. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

He takes a deep breath, unconsciously wiping his mouth. This time the chills running down Theon’s back at the sight are of an entirely different kind.

“They released me after not even a week. Guess my being there raised too many questions. “Jon shrugs. “Thorne came to escort me out himself. He told me not to forget what happens if I don’t keep my mouth shut. And I promised to do it. I’d have promised anything to get out of there.”

Jon grasps his still full wine bottle, knocking it back with long gulps before sighing heavily.

“And of course I’d lost my flat in the meantime. And I couldn’t stay at Sam’s place forever. He and the others were observed. Associating with me was bad for them. They wanted to quit the force but I told them to stay. That way there’ll be at least some decent cops.”

Jon reaches out and Theon gives him the rest of his wine without hesitating.

“And then I got murderously drunk in that seedy bar and started making a scene and, well. I said Slynt’s name, and someone must’ve been keeping an eye on me, because when I came to again I was lying in a dumpster in some back alley, in a pretty bad shape. And there was this taste again.”

Jon shudders.

“That’s how Tormund found me. Dumpster diving. He lives in an abandoned house with a bunch of others. One of them - Val, you’ve seen her - got out and got herself a sugar daddy. She showed me your ad.” Jon chuckles humorlessly. “And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Theon echoes. This is all a little much to take in. “I think I feel sick.”

Jon gasps, he looks as if he’s been slapped and for a moment Theon has no idea why - then it hits him. 

“Not because of… of… oh god, Jon. I feel sick when I think of what I said.”

“What?”

“About… about your mouth. Oh god.” Theon groans. “I’ve been going on and on about it and you… I’m so sorry. Fuck, I really am a monster. I’m really sorry. I won’t ever mention anything like that ever again.”

“Oh.” Jon sways slightly. “I thought you were disgusted with me.”

“Now you’re the moron. Nothing could make your mouth less inviting - oh fuck, sorry!” Theon swears loudly. “I did it again, I can’t believe myself!”

“Don’t stop,” Jon says, for some weird reason looking as if he’s about to laugh. “I think it’s funny. I honestly do,” he insists when Theon looks at him dubiously. “You were so open about it from the start… I never felt threatened by you or the things you said.”

“You’re mad,” Theon declares and somehow this seems to be funny too because all of a sudden Jon dissolves in a fit of chuckles.

“Sorry,” he finally wheezes, “it’s just… here we are, two sad figures trading dark secrets… it’s so ridiculous.” He reaches out, placing his warm hand on Theon’s arm. “Let’s be done with it now, please? No more darkness. I’m fine. Make your jokes. They are a big part of what I like so much about you.”

Theon observes Jon’s face, the sincerity in his eyes, his soft smile. Still, he can’t mean it. It all makes so much more sense now. Why Jon never goes out. Why he seemed so timid in the company of the other guys. Why he didn’t ever… Theon shudders. He sure as hell won’t ever request that one particular thing from Jon. And he sure as hell doesn’t believe him when he says he’s fine.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he tells him. “This isn’t something that goes away just because you don’t talk about it anymore. It took years to get my old self back somewhat. Years of talking. And as much as I like to talk about myself this wasn’t a pleasant topic. Do you think you’ll wake up one day and be fine? Not flinching anymore when some guy bigger than you - and sorry, baby, but that’s _every_ guy - even so much as looks at you?”

“I know that,” Jon mutters, his eyes glittering darkly. “But for now I just want to be happy. I am, for the most part. And the rest… I may never suck your cock but I am already so much better.”

“Oh forget about the cocksucking,” Theon groans. “I’m talking about the bigger picture. Don’t you want to be happy for every part? Not just for the most?”

“The way this conversation is going is making me decidedly unhappy,” Jon mutters darkly. “Please please please can we stop for now?”

Theon sighs. He looks at Jon, taking in his determined expression, the way his jaw is set. He looks grim and stubborn and so vulnerable beyond all this… and fuck, how _dare_ they. How dare they do this to him, for no greater sin than trying to do the right thing, for being an honest, good man. There must be a way. A way to put it right. A way to get back at them. But for now…

Theon smiles.

“As you wish,” he says and snatches a handful of Jon’s bathrobe, pulling him in for a kiss, short and sweet. “I think I shall order oysters for dinner. Haven’t had a decent wank to that mouth in weeks.”

Jon’s eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile deepens. “I think I love you,” he says, and then he kisses Theon again.  


“What became of Kyra?” Jon asks later that night when they’re already in bed. “Did you ever see her again?”

“She still sends me a fucking Christmas card every year,” Theon says with a chuckle. “I wrote her a letter after my… let’s call it _epiphany_. I apologized. Asked her for forgiveness. Offered to pay for a therapist should she feel she needs one. She told me to stuff my money up my bum. She’s married. Has a daughter.”

“But did she forgive you?” Jon yawns and snuggles closer. “Did you?”

“She did,” Theon says after a long while, but by then Jon is already asleep.

***

Something wet on his neck wakes Jon and for a moment he’s disoriented before he remembers. They’re back home. It had been raining when they climbed out of the taxi, but Theon’s mood had been unwaveringly good. He’d nearly dragged Jon to bed, not even bothering with a shower before thoroughly taking him apart.

“Fucking you in my bed,” he’d said, “that’s like a million dreams coming true.”

Theon’s trying to make another of his dreams come true, Jon thinks as Theon latches onto his nape, his hard cock sliding rhythmically against Jon’s arse cheeks. His hand strokes Jon’s stomach and chest, only gliding lower when Jon makes an approving sound deep in his throat and presses back against Theon.

“Good morning,” Theon mumbles against Jon’s skin. “You’re not up for some early sex by chance?”

“Terrible idea,” Jon says, guiding Theon’s hand down to his hardening dick. “We still haven’t showered since coming back.”

“Mmm, but you smell good.” Theon noses at Jon’s hair, his fingers wrapping around Jon’s dick and stroking him a couple times before disappearing. “Is that a yes? Or a no?”

“It’s a ‘fuck me’.” Jon rolls his eyes as he feels Theon’s fingers parting his cheeks, slick and cool. “You’ve already started without me, huh?”

“Would never,” comes the lazy answer and then Theon groans as he slides two fingers into Jon. “Fuck, you’re still ready from yesterday. You feel amazing, baby.”

“Less talking, more fucking,” Jon mutters then cries out when Theon swiftly complies. “Oh god, yes…”

The first few seconds are always a struggle. Theon’s girth is quite something to take despite all the fucking they’ve done in the last week. But once it’s actually _in_ \- damn but this feels perfect. Jon moans quietly as he grinds back. Normally he prefers to ride Theon, control the speed and the force, but this is nice too, Theon plastered to Jon’s back, one arm securely slung over his waist. He doesn’t have much leverage in this position, so everything is slow and gentle and intimate.

It takes a while like this. The pleasure is not a fast, overwhelming rush that erupts into sparks and flashes; it builds slowly but steadily. Theon mouths at Jon’s neck, kissing and licking and nibbling at his skin, whispering nonsensical praise as he glides in and out of Jon. Jon is stroking his own prick lazily, there’s no frantic tumble to the finish line, just these incredible feelings buzzing through his veins until his whole body hums.

“I’m close,” Theon whispers into Jon’s ear, grinding deeper.

His hand finds Jon’s and wraps around it and they start moving together, faster and faster until Jon feels his balls tighten, until he tenses and comes over their entwined fingers. Theon moans behind him, he pushes into Jon for a couple more thrusts before he too goes tense and Jon feels wet warmth spread inside him. It takes a few moments until Theon pulls out, and when he does Jon rolls around to kiss him thoroughly.

“We definitely need a shower now,” Theon says with a grin. “And what do you think about having Berra make us a fry-up?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jon answers, licking his lips. It makes Theon shudder and his spent dick, soft against Jon’s thigh, twitches. Jon smiles. “Maybe we can go another round in that shower?”

“You’ll be the death of me,” Theon groans.

 

He vanishes after breakfast, mumbling something about a business he has to take care of, leaving Jon to linger around in the winter garden with a book. But instead of reading it he’s mostly thinking, about the last week, about all the revelations. It had been amazing to discover that Theon had an experience like him. Not that Jon’s happy about it, not at all. It’s horrible, but it means he understands.

He’d never thought he’d find someone who understood.

Everything could be so perfect… if it wasn’t for Slynt. Jon wants to be able to go out. He wants a job. He wants to pay rent, pay for groceries. He wants to pay for his own fucking therapy, should he decide to get it, something Theon has offered repeatedly. He wants to treat Theon to an ice cream when he wants some, even though it’s ridiculous. Theon could probably fly to Italy if he suddenly craves ice cream. Jon sighs, closing the book. He wants them to see eye to eye, at least in some regards.

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

Jon looks up at Berra, having appeared in the door.

“Mr. Greyjoy has called. I’m to tell you his businesses will keep him away for a couple of days. And there’s a package for you in the hall, it’s been delivered just now.”

“Thank you.”

Jon frowns unhappily as he gets to his feet and follows her through the rooms. He’s really not looking forward to spending the next two nights alone, now that he’s used to the comforting presence of Theon beside him. The package waiting for him is absolutely huge, and when Jon has it finally open he starts laughing. A giant teddy bear is staring at him. The thing is nearly as tall as Jon himself. Grinning, he removes the card attached to the bear’s bow tie.   


_I beg your forgiveness for deserting you like this, but urgent business keeps me away. In the event of nightmares this teddy shall be your source of comfort until I am back to resume the task myself._

_Yours,_

_Theon_

_PS: Can’t wait to be back with you, baby. Hopefully with some good news. Until then, love you!_  


Jon shakes his head, wondering how long Theon laboured to print that. Not that he’s dumb, he’s just not that interested in writing. He’s more of a talker, a doer. Jon had tried to get him into the Peter Grant books while on holiday, to no avail. Not enough pictures, Theon had stated.

He lugs the bear into Theon’s bed where it takes up three quarters of the surface. Still, the gesture is sweet and when Jon does wake up from a terrifying dream on the second lonely night he finds it actually calms him down. Not the bear itself but the knowledge that Theon is thinking of him. Fuck, Jon misses him, even after two days it’s already bad enough.

In the morning Theon still isn’t back and Jon sluggishly eats breakfast on his own, not looking forward to more time spent alone. It’s another reason he wants a job. He’s growing too dependent on Theon in more ways than just money. He sighs, making his way over to his old rooms. Maybe he can lift weights for a while, distract himself.

He’s in the middle of a set of knee bends when suddenly the door flies open. Jon flinches back, panicking for a moment, but then he feels a wide smile spreading over his face.

“There you are,” Theon says, and then Jon is in his arms, not worrying about being sweaty and gross, just happy to have him back.

When Theon pulls back Jon takes a long look at his face. He looks exhausted, but he’s smiling, a somewhat smug grin.

“Go and take a shower, baby,” he says, “and dress in your black jeans and one of your fancy shirts. We’re going out to dinner tonight.”

“I can’t go out,” Jon protests. Has Theon forgotten everything? “If Slynt’s men see me with you–”

“Janos Slynt won’t have much time to worry about you,” Theon says lightly, his smile turning grim. “He’s too busy facing charges for misappropriation of evidence, drug trafficking and attempted corruption of a member of the House of Lords.”  


They don’t go out. They order fast food that Jon doesn’t touch while Theon hungrily swallows chip after chip, as if he’s starving. In between bites he talks, and Jon listens with growing disbelief.

“So, my sister’s girlfriend. She’s a foreign diplomat and knows a lot of people. Between her and my uncle it was a matter of days until it was settled.” Theon gulps down a large sip of pepsi. “Thought that name rings a bell, Slynt. I remembered seeing him around my uncle Euron on occasions. And after calling in some favours, my beloved uncle agreed to help me.”

“But Thorne…”

“Chief Commander Alliser Thorne has announced his resignation. It’ll be official by the end of the week. The newly appointed Chief Commander Eddison Tollett sends his greetings.”

Edd. Jon swallows dryly. That… can that really be true?

“Oh, and in case you hear something on the news…” Theon takes a bite out of a greasy burger, mumbling with his mouth full. “There’s been a rampage in the city gaol.” He swallows, not looking at Jon. “Four guards were killed by a crazed inmate. Possibly a revenge killing, there won’t be too many investigations.”

Jon clamps both hands over his mouth in a desperate attempt to trap the sob that means to break out, but it’s no use. He whimpers, an embarrassing, ridiculous sound, and then Theon’s arms are around him and Jon loses it. It takes a long while, a long while of Theon holding him and stroking his hair and mumbling into his ear until Jon calms down.

“Is it really over?” he finally asks, not recognizing his own voice. It’s still too unbelievable.

“It’s over,” Theon says. “You’re safe.”

***

“I could do this all day,” Theon mumbles contentedly.

“You are,” comes Jon muffled voice from the depths of the pillows his face is buried in. “I think you haven’t taken your hands off me for three hours now. Not that I’m complaining…”

“But?” Theon queries, pressing his thumbs into Jon’s flanks until he groans.

“But if you were in the mood to suck my dick sometime today I wouldn’t complain either.”

“Cheeky brat,” Theon grumbles. “Turn around. Can’t do anything to your dick when you’re lying on it.”

Jon does, sitting up for a kiss, but Theon shakes his head.

“Say it again. One more time, for me.”

“This is getting old,” Jon grouses and mock-sighs. “Alright. Suck my dick.”

“Again.”

Theon drags his thumb over Jon’s lips.

“Suck my dick,” Jon mumbles, eyes glittering, and then Theon’s breath catches in his throat when Jon opens his mouth and sucks his thumb in.

It’s a shock, the wet warmth, the suddenness of it, the way Jon’s lips look wrapped around the digit. And his eyes, god, _his fucking eyes._ So deep Theon could drown in them. There’s not a hint of apprehension in them, though this must cost Jon a lot. He’s only just gotten comfortable saying the actual words out loud, nearly two months after their holiday and the big secret-reveal.

Theon slowly removes his thumb from Jon’s lips, letting his fingers glide down his neck and over the slim leather band winding around it. It had been Jon who’d spotted the collar on one of their shopping trips, and had insisted he wear it to the next outing with the baboons. It had worked quite well, and Theon loves it. Jon wears it all the time now on his request.

“Are you going to suck my dick _today_? Or would you rather stare at me some more?”

Grumbling, Theon starts kissing his way down from Jon’s chest to his belly, lingering for a moment to map the flat planes with his tongue. How could he ever stop staring? He’s got Jon in his bed, in his life, when he comes home, he’s got him with him on some of the trips he takes to check on his many financing projects… he’s got Jon. Theon couldn’t be happier.

He listens to Jon’s moans and gasps as he takes him in his mouth, always so beautifully receptive. Theon still dreams of having this the other way round, he makes his jokes and Jon laughs, but they both know it isn’t going to happen. It doesn’t matter. They have so much else.

~

“When will you be back?” Jon pouts, so sexily Theon actually thinks of postponing his lousy trip. Germany this time, for nearly a week. Jon sighs. “I wish I could come with you. But I promised Sam I’d be with him. Someone has to keep him from fainting when Gilly walks down the aisle.”

“Aye, I know. Six days and I’m back with you, baby.”

Theon hooks two fingers under the collar on Jon’s neck, pulling lightly.

“Will you wear this to the wedding?”

“Yeah, about that… Do you think we could, I don’t know… reduce that whole collar-wearing a little?” Jon sighs unhappily. “I mean, you know I love it and all but when I’m out people look - and I can’t go to interviews wearing it.”

Not that again.

Theon isn’t ready. He knows Jon will get a job someday, but not now. Things are so wonderful as they are, so perfect… he’s not ready to share Jon with a whole separate life. And although he’s whining about it every now and then it’s pretty easy to shut him up with a kiss, or a nice, long fuck. Theon knows Jon’s just as happy as he is. He has his friends back, he can go out as much as he wants without fear - and he’s got Theon. And with Theon he has everything he could possibly need, ever.

“Let’s talk about that when I’m back, okay?” he says and leans in to kiss Jon. “You have everything you need, right? And should you still want for something - well, you know how to use your credit card.”

“ _Your_ credit card,” Jon says quietly. “I’ll miss you.”

“Same.” Theon strokes Jon’s hair back, drawing his finger over the leather band again. “You’re my perfect baby. I love you.”

Jon’s arms wind around Theon’s waist, hugging him so tight, as if he never wants to let go. But it’s only when he’s on the plane that Theon realizes Jon hasn’t said it back. He quickly dismisses the thought. Pain of parting and all that.

~

Theon looks through the pics Jon has sent him again, from the wedding, of himself, looking stunning in his new D&G suit, together with a bunch of people in festive attire. The bride looks pretty but Theon is sure Jon got more looks. If only the damn driver would go faster! He can’t wait to see him again.

And finally the car turns into the long driveway, another long minute until it pulls up in front of the door. The door opens and there he is, running out to welcome him home. Theon leaps out of the car, thrusting back a bundle of notes without looking and then Jon crashes into him.

“Finally,” he says into Theon’s sweater. “I thought I’d go mad.”

“Me too, baby.”

Theon kisses him hard, walking Jon back into the house without caring about his luggage. Someone will take care of it. He has to take care of _this,_ of Jon. Everything else is unimportant.

After a very long time of reacquainting himself with Jon’s mouth Theon sits down on the bed, dragging Jon down with him. He strokes his curls back, cannot get enough of seeing his face again, his beautiful eyes, his damnable mouth, his smooth skin…

“Hey, where’s the collar?” Theon asks, grazing his fingertips over Jon’s throat.

“Oh, I meant to tell you.” Jon smiles. “I took it off for an interview I had today, at the–”

“Hey, hey,” Theon interrupts him. “None of this tonight, yeah? Let’s just be together for now. We’ll talk later.”

“Later,” Jon says in a flat voice, smile gone now. “Always later.”

“I missed you,” Theon whispers, “so much. It’s amazing to come home to you, have you waiting for me, baby.”

“Yeah.” Jon clears his throat and the smile is back, if a little tight. “Hey, go and take a shower. I have a gift for you.”

“Please tell me it’s either pancakes or sex,” Theon jokes as he starts to undress. “I’m ravenous for both.”

“Something like that. Now shoo!”

Jon’s smile wavers, and Theon kisses him. He’ll fuck him so good he’ll forget about the job thing for a while, he decides, and goes to take a shower. Upon his return Jon is already waiting for him in bed, mouthwateringly naked. Theon crawls between his slightly spread legs, but Jon places a hand on his chest. He’s trembling. 

“Lie down,” he says quietly. “I want to try something.”

Theon complies, now he’s curious at to what this is Jon wants to try. And gets the shock of his life when Jon takes a deep breath and buries his face in Theon’s crotch. He’s been half-hard already and this, Jon’s mouth in such close proximity is more than enough to have his cock filling out.

“Jon, what - you don’t…”

Theon breathes quickly, does Jon really mean to–

“Aye,” comes the muffled reply. “I _want_ to. Just… just don’t move.”

Theon closes his eyes, it’s too much, an onslaught of emotions welling up in his chest. He tries to lie as still as possible, way too conscious of warm breath ghosting over his cock. For a very long time nothing happens and Theon relaxes a little. Maybe Jon has changed his mind, he can, Theon wouldn’t - something wet drags over the length of his cock and Theon jerks, his eyes fly open–

It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, since the moment Jon stepped out of his shower an eternity ago. Jon’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing shallowly through his nose, his tongue darts out again and something in Theon explodes.

“Jon… god…”

Jon’s hand on his thigh tightens warningly and Theon shuts up. It takes another moment before Jon seems comfortable again. He makes a sound, something between a growl and a gasp - and takes Theon into his glorious mouth. It takes every ounce of self-control not to come right then and there, and Theon grips onto the covers for dear life.

Jon goes slow, painfully slow, licking more than sucking, he shudders and takes breaks every other moment. But then he looks up, into Theon’s eyes, and his own eyes are pitch black, determined and soft at the same time.

“Tell me before… you know.”

Theon nods, lost for words as Jon descends on his cock again, and now he _sucks_ , taking Theon halfway in before it gets too much, but it’s enough, more than enough, so much more than Theon would have dared to hope for. It doesn’t take long, not with the sight of Jon’s plush lips stretched around the head, not with his eyes flitting to Theon’s face every so often…

“Jon,” Theon groans, “Jon, stop!”

Jon gives a last lick before pulling off, wrapping his hand tightly around Theon’s aching cock. One stroke, two, and Theon cries out as he twitches and spills over Jon’s warm hand.

“You okay,” he pants when he finds his voice again, “Jon, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” comes the soft reply and then Jon is there and kissing him.

Theon pulls him down and against his chest, holding him close. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, eyes falling shut. He’s bone tired, but… “Let me take care of you.”

“You already did,” Jon says, and Theon smiles.   


He wakes up with a jolt, his heart beating fast. Jon isn’t in bed, but then it’s already eight am. Maybe he’s talking to Berra about breakfast, or he’s on one of his morning runs. Theon stretches out in bed. He can’t wait for him to come back, spend the whole day with him, fuck him, love him. His hand moves under the pillow and Theon pauses when he feels paper rustling under his fingers. He pulls it out, smiles when he sees his name and unfolds it.   


_I’m so sorry._

_I can’t ever find myself if all I am is yours. If I stay, all I’ll ever be is your baby. I need to know who I can be now. On my own._

_I’m so sorry. I love you, but I have to do this. Don’t look for me. Give me some time._

_I love you._

 

No. Fucking no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorryyyyyy. It isn't the end. But it got so long I decided another ch was needed. Coming soon... 
> 
> A huge thank you to @half_life, my Calliope! You saved my butt here :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!! I'm sorry for the delay and I can offer no better excuse than real life. 
> 
> @half_life!!! You made this ch (the whole fic) so much better, the flow so much flowier, with your amazing, detailed, wonderful, so much appreciated beta-work! You so deserve the pirate AU we talked about (and about a million more fics).
> 
> Should any of you have not read the Peter Grant books by Ben Aaronovitch yet, please go and do so immediately. After reading my story of course. It's the most hilarious story ever!

Jon has taken almost nothing, except some basic clothes. Everything else is still in his rooms, cell phone, credit card and keys neatly placed on the table. Theon takes the phone, unlocking it and scrolling through the numbers. All deleted. All conversations gone. No one to call, no one to ask, no one to beg to help him get Jon back.

Where can he be? Sam’s place is the most likely, but Theon doesn’t know the address. It’s not online either. Sure, there are ways, illegal ones paved with money, but Theon is certain Jon would never forgive him if he used those.

Theon isn’t sure how much time he spends there in Jon’s room, staring at the things Jon left behind. Berra comes and goes, food appears and is taken away again. Maybe it’s an hour. Maybe it’s a day. At one point he crawls into Jon’s bed, between sheets that smell like fresh laundry and nothing more, nothing like Jon. As if he’s never slept here in the first place.

But going back to his own room, where it does smell like him - like both of them, like sex, like betrayal… that’s impossible. So Theon stays where he is, staring at a shirt or a book or a hair tie, or nothing. He’s searched for the leather collar, coming up empty-handed. He pictures Jon ripping it off, tearing it and all its meaning, throwing it into a trash can. And he gets so angry. Angrier than ever before, and without knowing what he does, Theon goes to get his bat.

That’s how Robb finds him, sitting on the floor in midst of a trashed room, glass shards and torn clothes, pages ripped out of books. The bat is in pieces, just like Theon, so it’s rather fitting. He only regrets he can’t use it to attack Robb, who comes in with a worried frown on his stupid face.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?”

His mind, yes. And Jon. Does Robb know? Theon studies him with narrowed eyes, the friendly face, the look of pity in his blue eyes… Yes, he knows. Maybe he knows more. Maybe… maybe it was _him._ Maybe he was the one Jon away from the danger he thinks Theon is to him. Maybe he has him hidden away somewhere.

“You asshole,” Theon snarls, jumping to his feet, fists raised. “Give him back, he’s mine!”

“Woah.” Robb takes a step back, bumping into the rack of dumbbells. “Easy there. I don’t have him. I have no idea where he is.”

“But you know _something_. You know something and you’re fucking well holding out on me.”

“Jeez,” Robb says. “I’m going to tell you, just calm the fuck down. Why don’t we go and sit outside and talk about it over a drink.” He slowly moves forward again, hands raised. “I’m not keeping secrets from you, okay?”

Theon’s breath leaves him in a long, shuddery sigh, along with most of his anger. Robb is going to tell him what he knows. That’s just… All of a sudden a wave of repressed emotions rolls over him and before he knows Theon has his arms around Robb, sobbing into his neck.

“You’re a good friend,” he finally sniffles as Robb awkwardly pats his back. “Tell me everything.”

“Garden,” Robb says sternly, then grimaces. “And take a shower first, will you? You reek.”

~

“There, don’t you feel better?”

Robb’s smile turns unsure when Theon just shrugs. Of course he feels better with fresh clothes and clean skin and being out in the open air. But Jon is still gone, and so are all traces of him in Theon’s bed. Someone has changed the sheets. Berra, probably. Maybe he should fire her for taking the last of Jon’s presence away.

“Your hair is longer,” Robb states. “Suits you. You look like a starved prince.”

Theon frowns. Sounds as if Robb has lost his mind too. Jon had said a similar thing about his hair, but nothing about starving. Vaguely Theon remembers booking an appointment at his hairdresser’s, to Jon’s chagrin. There’s a stinging feeling in chest. He takes a seat at the garden table, opposite Robb, and stares unseeingly at the glass in front of him.

“Seriously, Theon. When was the last time you’ve eaten something?”

Theon shrugs again. He doesn’t remember. Can’t be that long ago, he isn’t hungry at all. Only thirsty, so he takes his glass and drains it in one huge gulp, the alcohol burning in his throat, making him cough. Robb tsks, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll ask Berra to get you something.” When Theon wants to protest, Robb cuts him off. “Nah-uh. You can sit here and eat while I tell you about Jon.”

It sounds like a condition, so Theon nods, watching Robb as he gets up and disappears. It’s a warm day, sunny and almost cloudless. If Jon was here, he would have spent every daylight hour out here, reading or lazing around or driving Theon mad with arranging his perfect body into all kinds of seductive poses. The image hurts, and Theon is glad when Robb comes back carrying a tray with a plate of sandwiches and a can of pepsi.

“What the fuck, Stark,” Theon mumbles as he plucks the can off the tray. “Give me alcohol.”

“Not before you’ve eaten,” Robb says loftily, sinking down into his seat with meaningful gaze. “You’re starting to slur after one single Sex on the Beach.”

“Jon and I had sex on the beach in Greece,” Theon says. “He complained about sand in his arse for days afterwards.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.” Robb grimaces. “But then maybe it was totally worth it, gritty, grainy, wet sand everywhere and sand flea bites and all…”

“It was worth it.” Theon takes a bite out of a sandwich, pulling a face at the cardboard taste of it. “Where is Jon?” he asks after having swallowed.

“I have no idea. I swear it!” Robb places on hand on his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die. If I knew I’d tell you.”

“You would?”

“No need to be so surprised,” Robb grouses, brows gathering. “While I am definitely on his side with what’s happened between you, I’m also of the very firm opinion that you deserve a chance to set things right. Which you totally would, yeah?”

“Haven’t done anything wrong,” Theon mutters and licks mustard off his thumb. “We were happy. At least I was. Thought he was too, but obviously I’ve been tragically mistaken.”

“You’re such an idiot I wonder how you manage to dress yourself in the morning,” Robb says dryly. “Do you even _know_ Jon?”

“Thought I did.”

“So, you think that someone like him - ex-cop, all he’s been through, all he’s managed to _get_ through - would want to live the rest of his life like a Stepford wife?”

“What, a robot?” Confused, Theon bites into another sandwich. He’s already eaten three of them and for some reason it makes him feel hungry instead of full.

“Idiot.” Robb pronounces the word with a sharp t at the end. “Did you really think he was going to be content waiting here for you to come home, in a flowery dress and a frilly apron?”

Theon feels absolutely bewildered. What on earth is Robb talking about? Robb doesn’t notice, he’s apparently warming to the topic.

“Did you want a remote for him, to go with his lovely collar? So you could switch him on when you feel like sex, or want to parade him around like a pet? And then there’s the business trips. Did you think he’d forever be happy to shut himself in the apartment while you were away, never stepping outside, looking up to you with doe-eyed relief when you finally came home again to lift the solitude and the boredom and the uselessness…”

“It wasn’t like that,” Theon mumbles. “I just wanted some more time with him. Wanted him to myself before the world swallows him again.”

“Why didn’t you just let him get a fucking job?” Robb leans back, arms crossed before his chest. “He told you he wanted one. Repeatedly. You ignored him, brushed him off. What is so fucking bad about Jon being independent? Earning his own money? When he told me how you wouldn’t even let him talk about it–”

“But he told _you_ , did he…” Theon feels fresh anger clawing at his chest. “Did he whine to you about his mean, nasty jailer? Did you pat his head and encourage him to fuck off and spit in my face after all I’ve done for him?”

“No. But I did give him money for a taxi.”

Silence settles over them like heavy ashes and for a moment Theon thinks he’ll suffocate. All anger has evaporated and left nothing behind but a huge, consuming bitterness.

“He must’ve been really desperate to get away from me, to take money from yet another man.”

“I think he was. I don’t think he was desperate to get away from you, though. Just… away.”

“I gave him _everything._ I loved him. Robb…” Theon looks up at his best friend, at his face soft with pity. “I’ve never told anyone that before.  I gave him–” Theon stops. _My heart._ _I gave him my heart._ It’s too painful to say out loud. “I gave him fucking _everything_.”

“Everything except his freedom,” Robb says quietly. “Listen, man. He loves you too. He just needs time, I think. I don’t know where Jon is, but I might know someone who does.”

And all at once the numb feeling is gone, hope swelling like a balloon in Theon’s chest. He grips the edge of the table and stares at Robb with burning eyes.

“Tell me.”

~

“Jon said you were handsome.”

“Er...” Theon blinks at the blonde woman sitting across from him. She’s pretty, and a few months ago he definitely would have been interested. “Am I not?”

Val doesn’t answer, only raises one exquisitely shaped eyebrow while stirring her coffee. Theon suppresses an impatient growl.

“Where is he? Robb said you know.”

“All in good time, _daddy.”_ Val licks the spoon clean and lays it aside. “You know, I’m in between lovers myself. Won’t be able to keep my flat for much longer if I don’t find a new one soon.” She flutters her lashes. “You’re really rich, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.” Theon eyes her suspiciously. “But if you think I’m looking for a babe I have to disappoint you. I want Jon.”

“Do you now.” Val snorts decidedly unladylike. “Don’t worry, daddy, I’m not setting my eyes on you.”

“Because I’m not handsome enough?”

“No, you muppet. Because Jon loves you and Jon is my friend. But rich men,” she jabs a manicured finger at him, “know other rich men. You wouldn’t know anyone in need of some TLC? Someone older, perhaps. Rich. Clean. Not too perverse.”

“Oh.” Theon shrugs. “I’m not sure, I have to think about that.”

“Then think quickly. I can hardly concentrate on remembering where Jon is when I’m worried about my income.”

 _Grrrr._ Theon scowls at her but Val only smirks, taking a sip of her latte and leaving a fat lipstick mark on the cup. Theon shudders. This used to be his typical prey, pretty and dressed up to the nines and caked with makeup. All he wants now is naturally pink lips, dark eyes framed with thick lashes, and black curls like silk.

He racks his brain for someone who’d be willing to take on a babe like Val. She’s pretty enough and not too picky. There should be someone.

“My best friend…” Theon starts and Val immediately perks up.

“That Robb guy Jon introduced me to? I accept!”

“God, no. But his father–”

“Oh, that’s good too!”

“–has a friend.” Theon tries to glare her into shutting up. “He’s got a huge firm down in the capital and could swim in his money like Scrooge McDuck.”

“Hm.” Val taps her chin. “And how is he?”

“Generous. Funny. Loud.” Theon bites his lip. “Fat.”

“Oh, that doesn’t bother me at all.” Val smiles appealingly. “Status?”

“Married. Three kids, but all adults.”

“Sounds good.” Val leans back. “So you’ll arrange that for me?”

“He’s coming north next month to discuss stuff with Robb’s dad. There’ll be parties.” Theon shrugs. “Won’t be too hard chucking you in his path.”

“One whole month.” Val sighs deeply. “That’s a long time without–”

“Yes, yes, I’ll pay your rent. And a generous finder’s fee,” Theon adds when Val raises her eyebrows. “Now _please_ tell me where Jon is.”

“One more thing before I do that.” Val’s face becomes serious, all coquetry gone. “Promise me you won’t storm in there and fuck it up. Jon’s not ready to be with you.”

“I promise,” Theon says eagerly.

~

Of course he hails a cab as soon as Val has gotten into hers, nearly shouting the address at the driver. A coffee shop on the other side of town. A _coffee shop_. Jon the ex-cop, working in a coffee shop. Grinding beans and pouring milk and serving other people. He can’t really want that. This is no job for someone like him.

The cab stops and Theon scrambles out. There it is, at the street corner, The Coffee Talk. Determined, Theon pushes the door open and marches in. There’s a line, a throng of people waiting to be served - and at the end of it is Jon. Theon’s heart constricts in his chest. His hair is tied back into some kind of mini bun, he’s wearing a white and green striped apron and he’s _beautiful_.

Theon gets in line, heart beating fast. When he comes closer he can hear Jon’s voice. He’s greeting people, asking them for their orders. He smiles a lot, and he’s completely immersed in his job, concentrating on every customer before him. He seems at ease, more calm than Theon has ever seen him. It hurts.

Finally there are only two people left between them, a woman and a guy. The woman flirts with Jon, obvious enough it has Theon grit his teeth. At least Jon doesn’t flirt back.

He shouldn’t be here where people can hit on him so easily. He should be at home, safe and protected. He should be with Theon, smile at Theon, not at random people in a bleeding coffee shop.

“Hi, what can I… oh.”

Theon looks up. It’s his turn and he steps forward, greedily training his gaze on Jon’s face. He’s staring at him, lower lip wobbling. And then, for just a moment, his face shows such undiluted yearning Theon wants to jump over the counter, sweep him up in his arms and carry him home. But then Jon’s expression changes, becomes wary and withdrawn. It’s heartbreaking to watch. Theon searches for something to say, anything. He drops his gaze, and then he sees it, the slender leather band, wrapped multiple times around Jon’s wrist. He kept it.

Theon looks up again and smirks. “My favourite, please,” he says.

Jon’s lips quirk up. He turns to his colleague at the coffee machine. “One medium hazelnut cappuccino with chocolate topping,” he says before squaring his shoulders and looking back at Theon. “This one’s on me.”

Theon opens his mouth to protest - he’d actually planned on giving a murderously large tip - but Jon’s gaze is pleading, he’s worrying his lip, and for once Theon understands.

“In that case, thanks.” He drops a small coin into the tip box.

Jon’s smile is brilliant.

“Don’t think you can come here all the time now and get free stuff,” he says, tone teasing. The message is clear though.

“Nah,” Theon says, feigning arrogance. “I’m not that often in this part of town.”

“There have been talks of maybe setting up a delivery service. Sometime. In the future.”

Jon doesn’t look at Theon. He’s twisting the receipt in his fingers.

“Then I’ll wait.”

Jon looks up, eyes hopeful. They stare at each other for a long time and Theon loses himself in Jon’s warm gaze...

“Dude, either propose or get the fuck out of the line!”

Jon ducks, cheeks flushing a hot red. He holds out the receipt. “Thank you,” he says, and again, “ _Thank you.”_

Their fingers touch as Theon takes the small paper, and suddenly he has to get out of there. A last look, a last smile, and then he grabs his coffee and he’s out, breathing deeply.

He can’t start bawling like a fucking girl in a coffee shop after all.

***

It’s been three weeks since Theon came to the coffee shop, but Jon’s stupid heart still beats faster everytime he thinks of it. When he’d seen him… Jon can still feel the strange mix of panic, delight, longing, sadness, fierce joy and about twenty more emotions raining down on him like a fucking cloudburst. At least Theon had looked equally overwhelmed, expression dumbstruck.

God, Jon misses him.

He misses Theon every day and every night and every minute he’s not busy at work. Sometimes even then. When there’s someone with hair like Theon. Or the same eye colour. Or a similar grin. One time a man had come in with such a likeness to him, Jon had nearly fainted. Well, at least he hadn’t done that when the real thing had finally appeared. A small consolation.

Theon had looked so handsome… Jon sighs, dreamily shuffling sugar packets around on the little self-service station. Theon’s hair is long - a good look on him in Jon’s opinion. He was thin though. Probably Jon’s fault. He still regrets the way he left. Not the leaving itself but not saying goodbye. He should have had the courage to look Theon in the eye when he told him.

 _You’ll never be able to leave if he looks at you with those huge magnificent eyes_ , Robb had predicted. And of course he’d been right. But picturing Theon’s hurt, his anger… Sam had been horrified when Jon had turned up. He was a sobbing mess, nothing like the rational human being Sam knew. Jon cringes at the thought. Sometimes he thinks he only stopped bawling because he had to start his job.

“Hey, can you take over the register? Need a break.”

Jon nods at his colleague and goes to replace her. He likes her. He likes all of the staff. They’re nice and not too intrusive about his private life. Which is non-existent if he’s being honest. Mostly Jon works. Or meets Sam or the other guys. Or the therapist Edd has recommended. He has his own flat - it’s a one bedder, so tiny he’s sure he’ll knock himself out one day when turning around too fast. But it’s _his._ He’s paying for it, and he still has enough to buy groceries.

“Hello, darling! How are you?”

Jon forces a smile onto his face. That’s the only part he doesn’t like at this job. Mel.

“Don’t you look handsome today,” she purrs, pressing her breasts against the counter as she bends forward in an uncomfortable-seeming position. “When are you off?”

“Same as always?” Jon’s jaw starts to strain from the fake smile.

“Sure, darling. Want to meet me after? I’ll give you a generous tip.”

She licks her lips and ogles Jon’s crotch area. He shudders.

“Three fifty, please.”

“Don’t be shy, love, I’ll make it extra good.”

Jon wishes the floor would just open and swallow him - or Mel, preferably - when his saving grace appears.

“Piss off, slut, before I gouge your greedy eyes out.”

Val cracks her knuckles at Mel who, astonishingly, doesn’t bitch back but flees. Without her coffee. Which means she’ll be back once the coast is clear.

“Hi, Val,” Jon greets her dejectedly. “You sounded eerily like Styr there for a moment.”

“Who do you think I channeled just now.” She grins smugly, then frowns. “Really, Jon, you need to start defending yourself. Can’t always wait around here for that whore to show up and harrass you.”

“Don’t want to lose my job.” Jon shrugs. “As long as she doesn’t get handsy…”

“Not much going on today, hm?” Val looks around. “Want to go for lunch?”

“Yeah, sure. Give me twenty minutes.”

~

“Sooo. How long do you plan on leaving your poor daddy waiting?”

“He’s not my daddy,” Jon protests. “He’s my… my…” Boyfriend. Lover. Nothing fits right now. “I’m not ready.”

“Sure,” Val drawls. “That’s why you’re constantly fumbling with that leather thing he gave you. Jon, you’re stroking that thing as if it was his cock.”

“I’m not,” Jon mutters, guiltily shoving his hand with the band under the table. “And anyway, Davos says–”

“Davos says, Davos says.” Val heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Alright. What does Davos say?”

“He says I should be a hundred percent sure. Before I see him again.”

“Bah. Psycho talk. You’d be better off listening to yourself than old Freud. Just answer me a few questions.” Val purses her lips. “Do you love Theon?”

“Yeah, but–”

“You miss him?”

“All the time, but–”

“And when he came to see you he seemed different?”

“Well, yes, he let me buy him a coffee. But that doesn’t–”

“Stop it with the buts, Jon. Are you happy right now with your life as it is? A hundred percent?”

“No,” Jon says miserably. “Not without Theon.”

“There you go.” Val snorts in triumph. “I don’t get you, I really don’t. Do you even realize how fucking lucky you are? To find someone like that and it turns out to be love?” She scoffs. “God, what I wouldn’t give to fall in love. I mean, the babe life is perfect for me right now, but surely not forever. And you? You have it all. A man who loves you, who protects you, who cares for you. And what do you do? You run away.”

“I had to!” Jon says fiercely. “He wouldn’t let me–”

“Wouldn’t let you, wouldn’t let you. Are you that meek? You could’ve just fought him. Silent treatment. Big, sad eyes. Damn, Jon, have you never heard of manipulating someone into getting what you want?”

“Well - no.” Jon blinks. “But that would have only suppressed the real problem. He didn’t want me to be independent. At all! He wanted me to be his… his…”

“Babe,” Val finishes dryly. “And? So what. Just go and do your thing. He loves you enough to get used to it. And he _really_ does love you. I mean, that man is arse over tits for you. He was basically shaking with the need to find you. Not in a stalker-ish, violent way, but just...well. I was so sure he’d storm in and demand you leave with him.” Val cackles. “You’re still here though so I was obviously wrong. What _did_ he do?”

“Nothing,” Jon admits, and his traitorous heart starts beating faster again. “It’s a step in the right direction. But something still doesn’t feel right. And Davos says–”

“Aaarrrrgh!” Val buries her face in her hands with a groan. “You’re hopeless.”

~

On his way home that night Jon can’t get Val’s words out of his head. In a way she’s right. Sure, he could’ve sulked and pouted until Theon would have relented, but then that’s not what Jon wants. He wants them to be partners, trusting each other, supporting each other. And maybe he wants something just for himself, something Theon isn’t part of. Jon kicks at a stone, angry with himself. Because mostly, he still wants Theon.

He stops in front of the window of the bookshop on his way home, gazing longingly at the display. No extra money for books, but at least he can go to the public library. And then it catches his eye.

 _The Rivers of London,_ by Ben Aaronovitch. The Graphic Novel.

Jon smiles, Theon’s sceptical face as he leafed through the book crystal clear before his eyes. His frown, his mouth a defiant line, chin obstinately lifted… all because he’s too lazy to read it. What a moron. _My moron._ Jon shuffles closer to the glass, trying to read the price tag. And yelps in shock. Thirty-five. Oh god. That’s more than he spends on food in two weeks.

But Theon could read it. Then he’d know the story and they could discuss it over dinner, or afterwards in the living room by the fire, or in bed…

Two minutes later Jon finds himself back on the street, clutching a paper bag with the store’s logo. Confused, he peers down on it. What now? It seemed like a sign, but what is he supposed to do now? He has no food at home, and thanks to his impulse buy he can’t afford to get any. Fuck.

“I could do with another sign,” he mutters grumpily.

A car horn blaring behind him startles Jon, and when he turns around he can’t believe his eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Robb grins, leaning out of a huge truck. “Need a ride?”

~

“Please tell me Theon isn’t forcing you to endlessly patrol the streets on the off-chance I might need a ride,” Jon says as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Lol,” Robb says, then proceeds to laugh out loud for real. “Nah, nothing like that. I was just dropping off my sister’s boyfriend at the garage to pick up his car. It’s not far from here.” He gives Jon a curious side glance. “You look good. How are things?”

“Okay, I guess.” He glowers at Robb. “You told him to ask Val where I work.”

“Guilty. You should’ve seen him. Not eating, not showering. Gross, I tell you. He even smashed his bat in his desperation.” Robb starts whistling merrily, then stops again. “Where shall I drive you, Miss Daisy?”

The bat… oh god. Theon must’ve been so angry. So heartbroken. It had been wrong of Jon to do that to him. Not supportive or trusting at all. Theon needs him. Jon’s stomach flutters, a tiny glow growing stronger. They need each other. It makes the decision so easy.

“Home,” Jon says, and smiles.

~

Jon’s nerves are nearly getting the better of him as he stands before the door, but after an altogether too long time he finally presses the doorbell and waits. Footsteps are coming closer inside, the door is ripped open and Jon squints in the sudden flood of light - and finds himself pressed against a warm, soft figure.

“MR. GREYJOY!!!!” Berra hollers, suffocating Jon in her squishy bosom. “MR. GREYJOY, LOOK WHO’S HERE!”

Jon breaks free, gasping for air. He turns around, getting just a glimpse of Robb pissing himself with laughter as he drives away.

“Oh, Mr. Snow, you stupid boy, you’ve finally come home, the master will be so happy!” Berra almost sobs. “MR. GREYJOOOOOOY!!!”

“What the fuck?! I swear if this isn’t minimum the four riders of the Apocalypse I’ll fire your bum for screeching around like–”

Theon stops dead in his tracks, gaping at Jon like a vision. He looks like an absolute idiot, mouth hanging open, eyes bulging, he’s wearing a thin shirt and joggers, no shoes - a bubble of laughter threatens to escape Jon’s throat.

“I forgot the coffee,” he says, stepping around Berra. “But it is a kind of delivery. I have a gift for you.”

Theon finally closes his mouth, his face darkening. “The last time you said that you fucked off in the middle of the night.”

“I know. But this time I’m coming back.” Jon smirks. “Get the delivery menus, lover. I’m starving.”

Theon makes a noise, could be a laugh or a sob, Jon isn’t sure. But then he doesn’t care, because Theon reaches out and he’s home.

 

**Compromise**

“No way am I ever staying here again.” Theon shakes himself like a wet dog, as if Jon’s flat were a leper colony. “No _fucking_ way!”

“You know what that means,” Jon tells him. “I’ll pay rent.”

“Jon.” Theon stops, facepalming. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer. No one pays rent. I own the fucking place.”

“Then I’ll pay for groceries. Davos says–”

“Davos says, Davos says,” Theon grumbles to Jon’s delight. “You better save your money for paying _Davos._ You can’t make enough at the coffee shop.”

True, since one of their compromises included Jon reducing his hours from sixty to twenty a week.

“I’m not paying him. He’s more like a counselor than a psychologist.” Jon shrugs. “After I crawled back to you like a lovesick fool he sighed loudly and babbled something about how nobody ever minded him.”

“And how’s the counseling going?” Theon wraps his arm around Jon’s waist.

“It’s alright.” Jon snuggles into Theon’s side. “Big men still scare me somewhat, but after _a lot_ of talking about everything…” He grins suggestively. “I think we can keep practicing that thing you like so much.”

“Jon.” Theon sighs. “It’s not necessary, for fuck’s sake. I’m so glad you’re back I could quit sex completely if that’s what you wanted.”

“Yeah, I definitely didn’t want to ride you so hard that the bed frame broke,” Jon remarks. “Don’t break my heart, lover. Do you have any idea how many courgettes I deepthroated just for you?”

Theon stops dead again, slowly turning his head to face Jon. He’s sweating slightly, feverish gaze fixed on Jon’s mouth. His fingers graze the leather band around Jon’s neck - another compromise, neck in his free time, wrist at work. Jon licks his lips and Theon jolts.

“I love you,” Jon says sweetly, and then his laughter is swallowed by Theon’s mouth greedily descending on him.

It’s so good, it’s them, and it’s just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. Would love to know your thoughts on this last part! :D
> 
> As I've mentioned about a million times I'm working on a modern Pub AU featuring pining Theon and emotional zombie Jon. But season 8 is upon us and a fix-it/post GoT fic is looming threateningly in the background. 
> 
> Any preferences on what I should concentrate? 
> 
> Thank you @all for your comments and kudos, and a big thank you again to the prompter :)  
> I had so much fun with this!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let yourself be fooled, smut is coming (eventually). 
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts as always (what can I say, I'm basically a comment whore)


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